


Syncytium

by Mitchekie



Category: Chip 'n Dale: Rescue Rangers, Multi-Fandom, Pinky and the Brain, The Great Mouse Detective (1986), The Secret of NIMH (1982)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Death, Emotions?, Gen, Major Character Death even, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, brain sure doesn't know how to deal with them, even gets a little whumpy later on folks!, features rodents from multiple fandoms, gets a little angsty, gets a little fluffy, if your cartoon has a mouse/rat/hamster/whatever in it they may very well be here, we're gonna run the gamut here, what are those?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29182278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitchekie/pseuds/Mitchekie
Summary: Teacher/University AU. Professor Ronald Pinkus and Dr. Brian T. Globetrotter are college professors at an esteemed school for rodents. Mainly told from Brian's point of view; sometimes Ronald's. Brian is too egotistical for his own good. Ronald is too happy-go-lucky for his own good. The two clash. High jinks ensue. Globetrotter gets more than he bargained for. Way more than he bargained for...
Relationships: The Brain & Pinky
Kudos: 7





	1. Cellular Mitosis

**Author's Note:**

> AUs are absolutely not my cup of tea. School-based AUs are ABSOTIVELY POSILUTELY not my thing. Multi-chapters? Psh. Forget that. And yet... here we are, folks.
> 
> This was born from a simple desire to see Pinky and Brain in lab coats. Word on the street is that, originally, they were going to be dressed as such for the show before said idea was abandoned. Understandable, although a bit of a shame, really. So I took a crack at it, and I was certainly not the first to do so.
> 
> Behold, the result: tinyurl.com/4r5ko7oj
> 
> I rather liked the outcome. In fact, character traits were added, and... -gasp!- ... an AU! The rabbit hole was breached and there was no turning back.
> 
> And so here I stand, five chapters into a story that's looking to stretch for quite some time, and in a world where I only ever did one other multi-chapter work years ago and never got past the second installment. Mind you, this is all because I'm so invested in the characters of Pinky and Brain that, if there ever is an end to this madness, I certainly can't see it. The things you do for love, folks....
> 
> \-------
> 
> Throughout this story are most likely holes that I either forgot to patch up or am desperately trying to. Nevertheless, it stays smooth enough that it is, I hope, easy to follow.
> 
> Most every chapter title is scientific in nature, and will continue to be up to a point. This is to emphasize how Brian perceives things: very logically, and through glasses that are very much tinted to his specific perspective. That may change over time.... *wink*
> 
> For the sake of brevity, not every established rodent character from another fandom is mentioned in the tags, but we'll certainly see some recognizable faces pop up now and again. Only the most prominent are mentioned -- those who make an appearance on the regular, or at least have some pivotal role to play. Olivia is definitely a main player. I only intended for her to make the occasional cameo, but then quickly fell in love with writing her. She has a very kind and bubbly personality, partnered with an adventurous spirit, that greatly complements Pinky's cheery demeanor. 
> 
> Speaking of Pinky, there is more to his past than meets the eye. I wanted to add a little sandpaper to the table. This is a Pinky whom has gone through some rough times, but tries his best to remain uplifted and positive despite the odds. He's the opposite of Brian, and is the catalyst for everything that happens.

**Syncytium** \- n. a single cell or cytoplasmic mass containing several nuclei, formed by fusion of cells or by division of nuclei.

\/\/\/\/\/\/

**January 17, 1994 - 4:35 AM**

Darkness.

All around them was dark, it's impenetrable cloak cut only by the crimson beat of the emergency lights.

No one could see them. No one could hear them. No one even knew they were there. But if they could see them, by way of those steady emergency flashes, they'd make out an aging mouse struggling to carry his blue-eyed comrade to safety, light reflecting off his broken glasses. And if they could hear them, all they'd pick up, aside from a distant alarm, would be a heavy, breathless panting.

Brian paused in his efforts to set down the taller, much lankier mouse on the concrete below, an arm coming 'round to support his friend's head. Heavy lids threatened to close their curtains on a pair of periwinkle eyes, their owner barely managing to stay awake.

"Pinky... Pinky, wake up!"

Nothing.

"Pinky!"

He tapped his cheek sharply.

Slowly, surely, the other mouse awakened.

"Brain...?"

"Yes, Pinky. I'm here. I'm here."

"Brain...," Pinky whispered, a paw coming up to grasp his arm tightly before his head fell back into Brain's palm.

"It's all right," cooed Brian. "It's all right, Pinky. I've got you. Shhh. Shhh. I've got you. Shhhhhh shhh shhh shhh..."

\/\/\/\/\/\/

**September 10th, 1993 - 7:30 AM**

Darkness.

"Sh sh sh! Quiet! Everyone calm down! Quiet!"

A pencil sharpened. A ruler placed _just so_ on a dated, mahogany table. Half-moon violet glasses were pushed square up against a pair of pink, deadpan eyes by a delicate, nail-bitten finger.

"Good evening, class," droned Dr. Brian T. Globetrotter. "Today we shall be delving into the fascinating subject of cellular mitosis..."

Sunlight, warm and bright and quite the opposite of the teacher it poured the morning's blessing onto, shone through the dark, wooden blinds of the university classroom, the better to illuminate the scene. Rows and rows of mahogany benches, arranged in a stadium format, and each with a polished table set in front of it, could barely be seen thanks to the sheer number of students adorning every bit of space available. It wasn't cramped, per say, but it was filled. Not a seat was left, and not for reason of enthusiasm. The countenance of those in attendance told all: no one was here because they wanted to be, but because they needed to be. Required classes were always the least interesting, and the occasional passed note or whispered joke barely managed to keep the atmosphere animated, provided one was even able to communicate such messages without getting caught. It was common knowledge that this particular professor had no room for flippancy. Detentions were a standard affair. Not being spoken to or called upon was considered a kindness.

Said teacher continued his sunrise spiel, seemingly oblivious to the complete lack of interest permeating the room as he droned on and on about the fascinating life of the cell.

Fascinating, indeed. If he at all harbored any excitement about the subject his profile certainly failed to project it, his demure expression reflected on the faces of practically every student in the room. Only one outlier remained: a golden-furred girl mouse, glasses a little askew, cheek resting against her paw as she sighed dreamily. An equally amber-tinted mouse beside her rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"The intricacies of such a seemingly primitive topic are much more complex and absorbing than might first be assumed, and although I don't expect any of you to give a Heterocephalus Glaber's crotch about an ounce of it, we are henceforth going to engage in the undoubtedly invaluable study regardless."

Somewhere in the back, a student scribbled "Heterocephalus Glaber's crotch" on a page of his journal labeled "The Globular List of Insults", sniggering to his freckled companion.

"Please turn your attention to page seventy-five of your textbooks. We will begin with the genesis of the process, in which a single cell divides into..."

But whatever that cell was going to divide into had to be put on hold, for at that moment the classroom door flung open to reveal a completely new fascination entirely.

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Judson!" blurted out the newcomer, one foot in the door and the other still sticking outside the classroom, a loaded box of paraphernalia nestled precariously in his arms. "I'll never forget this! I promise to pay you back with a _whoooooole_ bouquet of flowers! Nya-ha-ha-ha!"

In he tumbled, paraphernalia and all, right onto Brian T. Globetrotter's desk, knocking an ink pen, two calculators, and his name sign off the table in the process.

"Whoops! Eheh. Sorry! I'll get that for you!" offered the mouse, hastening to clean up his mess, albeit rather haphazardly.

"Wha-... What are you doing here?! I am in the middle of a very important session!" growled Globetrotter.

"Oh, yes, and I'm sure it's a very lovely session, too! But... if you don't mind my asking...," and he got right up to the other's ear and whispered: "Isn't this, ummm, my room?"

"Wha-? Puh... It most certainly is _not_! This is my classroom and _you're_ intruding!" Globetrotter spluttered, poking a finger into the newcomer's chest for greater emphasis.

Three rows up, a student typed furiously on his phone: _New teacher about to get ROASTED by Mr. B._

"Well, how do you figure that one?" the other mouse questioned.

"Maybe you should read the fine prin _t_?!"

And with the starkest finality he could muster, he picked up his name sign and slammed it down in front of the other mouse, turning it so that the name BRIAN T. GLOBETROTTER on the front flashed out proud as anything. The new teacher didn't seem at all perturbed by such harsh behavior. Indeed, he put his face right up to the sign, tipped down his own pair of half-moon glasses, and carefully read each word, muttering them to himself softly.

"Oh! Well, that's different then, isn't it?" he declared, straightening up to smile brightly at his fellow colleague. "But, umm, you might want to change the name there, don't you think? I mean, it says "globe trotter", but I don't see you trotting around any globes. No. Not at all. More like globe sitter. Ha-ha-ha!"

Globetrotter stared at the newcomer, mouth agape. It was all he _could_ do at the moment, taken aback by the sheer audacity of this... figure and the pure chaos he had caused. Half the room was already in hysterics, for his buck-toothed make and slight slur, coupled with a lightly pronounced Cockney accent, made his proclamation of "sitter" sound like a different word entirely.

Everything about this mouse was... off. Compared to Globetrotter he was exceptionally tall and lanky, all the more exacerbated by the fact that Brian was quite a short mouse to begin with; he had to crane his neck to look up at him. His laugh was prominent, and his eyes were an astonishing robin's egg blue. Never in his lifetime had Globetrotter ever seen a mouse with eyes that color; he hazarded to guess they were contacts. He wore a lab coat, but only out of necessity, it seemed, for it clashed with the rest of his outfit: a pink polo-style shirt with some band's logo slapped on the front, striped corduroy pants that sported every color of the rainbow, and what looked to be black and white bowling shoes. It was as if a Goofy cartoon had vomited all over him. The heavy cardboard box he'd unceremoniously deposited on Globetrotter's table seemed to carry all assortment of bits and bobs - a globe, several petri dishes, a bag of chips, a baseball cap, some notepads and pens, a small keyboard, a roll of Gouda, some tape, a framed photograph, a book on Regis Philbin, two VHS tapes of The Honeymooners, and not one... but three Bunsen Burners, as if he had packed them in a feeble attempt to complete the look of someone who was supposedly intelligent. Every eye in the room had turned towards him as he entered, and every eye had stayed on him since. Golden-haired girl had actually dropped her pencil, grabbed her brother by the shirt sleeve, and clutched at her heart, a light whisper of, "Oh my _gosh_ , he's hot...," fluttering past her lips. Her brother facepalmed. To complete the effect, he carried under his arm a pad hosting a number of rather childish stickers, which Globetrotter grabbed from him.

"Shut up!" he snapped at his students, who were still chuckling. They all quieted down at once. "Dr. Ronald Pinkus, Professor of Trozology," Globetrotter read aloud, disgust painting every syllable. "What in the _bloody_ hell is 'Trozology'?"

"Oh, well, it's very simple, really. It's-," Ronald began, but at that moment, a wee mouse popped in, her eyes nearly covered by a pudgy blue tam o' shanter.

"Excuse me? Mr. Pinkus?" she squeaked, thick Scottish accent nearly muffled by the gray scarf swathed about her.

"Please, call me Pinky!" Ronald squeaked back.

The girl smiled and giggled.

"Pinky. Mrs. Judson told me to tell you that you're actually in two ten, not three nineteen."

"Hm? Ohhhhhh!" the one named Pinky exclaimed, peeking at the front of Globetrotter's classroom door. A giant number '319' was painted on its front. "That does explain things, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Now, would you _kindly_ disencumber my desk and plant your quixotic accoutrements elsewhere?" Globetrotter fronted, already pushing Pinky's possessions towards him, and would have thrust it clear off the desk had it not been for Pinky's quick reflexes. He grabbed his loaded box, that ridiculous grin still plastered on his face.

"Thank you, Mr. Brain! And thank you, Ms... errrr...?"

"Flaversham. Olivia Flaversham," piped the girl, beaming from head to toe.

"Thank you, Olivia!"

And he waved at her, as best he could anyway, nearly losing the box as Olivia waved back and skipped off. Shifting his grip so as to take better hold of his possessions, Pinky turned to Globetrotter, panting a little.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for barging in on your class, Mr. Brain. It won't happen again!"

"It's _Brian_. And see to it that you don't," retorted Globetrotter, flicking stray dust off his precious desk. "You may leave at your earliest convenience, which I hope will be immediately."

"Right-o, Brain!" Pinky saluted, and with that... he trotted off, slipping a little under the weight of the box, and doing his best to close the door behind him with his long, pink tail.

For five whole seconds Globetrotter stared at the closed door, as if attempting to retrieve what little bearings he had left. Despite the poisonous nature of their teacher, many of the students couldn't help but exchange excited mutters, babbling in haste about what had just transpired. Already, Globetrotter, with his exceptional hearing, could catch such questions as, "Did you see how many burners he had?", "Do you think he's single?", and, worst of all, "Is his class full?".

In a rare move, no one was punished for such comments. If anything, for the rest of the class, Globetrotter aimed to be a bit more... amiable than usual, which only fueled the chatter. The session was a long one - three hours, to be exact - and it was with great relief that the bell rang, for if there was anything more "exciting" than cellular mitosis, it was gossip.

"Homework is due on the twenty-first. I want a count of three-thousand words at least and _no exceptions_!" Globetrotter rattled as the entire class practically flew out of the room in a flurry.

Many paired up with friends; some hitched up their bags and backpacks, running in haste to their next class. Three of the girls, two mice and a shrew, banded together, all a-flutter.

"Oh. My gosh. Did you _see_ that guy? Ugh. My heart is still beating a mile a minute," one of them crooned. It was the golden-furred gal, whiskers shining as she licked her fingers and smoothed them out one-by-one.

"Gosh, Maisy, you're so superficial. One minute it's Globetrotter. Now it's this Pinky guy," mused a mouse to her left, a pair of goggles resting atop her blonde hair. "You need to pick a side."

"I am! I'm picking the cuter of the two," Maisy stated, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"He looked like Pee-wee Herman walked into Dexter's Lab or something..."

"Dexter's Lab is more fun," voiced Tillie the shrew, who adjusted the tightness of the little cloth draped over her head. "What did Globetrotter mean by giving us only five pages of homework? Usually it's at least ten..."

"I have a theory for that," said the goggle-adorned mouse, biting her fingernails.

"Would you stop doing that?" Maisy bit, slapping at the other mouse's wrist playfully. "It's so gross."

"What? They get gnarly. You know I don't wear gloves when I work."

"You should."

Goggle-mouse sighed.

"Anyway, you wanna hear my theory?"

"I do," piped the shrew.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead," droned Maisy, not at all enthused.

"Okay. So... my theory is that he's jealous. He doesn't want this Pinky guy to suddenly snatch up all his students, so he's trying to be extra nice to us to get us to stay."

Maisy snorted at this.

"As if we could leave. It's a required class."

"Yeah, but we could always drop it and take it next semester at a different time with a different teacher."

"But why would anybody go through the trouble of that?" said Tillie. "We'd all rather get it over with sooner than later."

"Exactly," "Goggles" said as they turned a corner, heading for the cafeteria. "Anyway, I'll see you guys later."

"Where are you going?" Maisy asked.

"It's Wednesday. I have Engineering on Wednesdays. Duh. Bye, guys!"

And off she went.

"Bye, Gadget!" Maisy waved, then said, under her breath, "She's so weird."

"Yeah, but we love her," Tillie said.

"Yeah, I know," smiled Maisy, as they walked into the cafeteria together.

Running past them went little tammie-headed girl. She practically flew past the throng of students milling in and trudging down the hallways, deftly weaving in and out of them like a snake in the grass. It was a wonder she didn't bump into anyone even once.

Down the maze of hallways she flew, finally stopping at a dividing lane to peer down a path at a familiar figure.

"Mr. Pinky!" she called out, desperately trying to catch her breath as she sprinted up to him.

Pinky smiled down at her, one paw resting on a handle on a door labeled 'Professor Ronald Pinkus, PhD Trozology, 210", his other arm still balancing the heavy box.

"I forgot to give you this!" Olivia panted, stretching out a sweaty hand to proffer him a little white note.

He took it, not without some difficulty, and tucked it into his box.

"Thank you, Olivia! Here..."

And he extracted from the box the bag of chips and handed it to her. She took it, puzzled.

"Tuppence for your trouble," he said, winking at her.

"Thank you, Sir! Good-bye!" Olivia waved, practically glowing as she ran back down the hallway, ripping open the bag and popping a chip in her mouth in the process.

Grinning sweetly, Dr. Ronald Pinkus opened the door and stepped inside.

It was dark, and it took a moment for him to find the light. When he finally flipped a switch, it revealed to him his new abode. It wasn't the most spacious area. In fact, as compared to Dr. Brain's (or... was it Brian's?) classroom this one was visibly a tad more... cramped. Only twenty seats lay stacked in a corner, their blue paint a little chipped and their legs a mite bent. They looked more like middle-school chairs than the nicer seats found throughout most of the school. The light was dim - perhaps a little too much so. He'd need to fix that. There was a fairly solid-looking desk, at least, as well as a small waste bin, some pencils, a large chalkboard behind the desk, and one of those roll-around televisions in another corner. By all accounts, this room was trash as compared to the rest of the university, but where anyone else would have turned their nose up at it... Pinky beamed.

Setting his box down upon the desk, he hung his lab attire up on a nearby coat hanger and inhaled, breathing in the smell of old glue, old chalk, and a very slight tinge of old bubblegum. The glue smell tickled his nose and he giggled. He rather liked that scent. It reminded him of something. Something sweet...

Quietly, he relieved the poor box of its contents, placing everything in the best places he figured they should go, and set the empty box down in a corner.

"There you go, old box. Sorry for all the trouble!" he apologized. The box said nothing.

He turned back to his desk, smiling at a job well done. The three Bunsen Burners stood proudly on one corner of the desk, looking very professional indeed. The notepads and pens looked quite nice on the desk, along with the roll of tape, and there was even a little shelf under the roll-away tv that he was able to put his Honeymooners tapes on! It was perfect. Well, almost.

From his lab coat, he pulled out a handkerchief, which he carried with him to an empty bathroom across the hall. Wetting it and wringing it out, he stepped back into his classroom, shut the door behind him, and carefully, gently, wiped down the picture frame, a smile kissing his lips as he did so. Four little figures beamed up at him: two older mice, himself as a child, and, curiously, a spool of thread, which he was hugging in the photo. Having cleaned the little glass and frame, Pinky brought it up to his face... and kissed it... before setting it back down on his desk, right there in front, where he could always look at it.

There was only one thing left to attend to: the note that Olivia had given him. He picked it up from the desk, unfolded it, and read:

_Mr. Pinky,_

_My sincere apologies for directing you to the wrong classroom. I hope that old bat didn't give you too much trouble. Please, alert me if you need anything._

_\- Mrs. Judson_

Pinky grinned, chuckling a little as he set the note back down on the table and stepped out from behind the desk.

He sighed happily and looked around the room, gaze glistening.

"I made it, Mum. I made it."


	2. Ferrum

**September 11th, 7:30 AM**

Darkness.

A light flicked on. It flickered a moment before settling. A pen sharpened... and subsequently broken. Whoops. A vase with three roses delicately placed right near a picture in frame with four occupants. Perfect.

Pinky clasped his hands together, sighed deeply, and tipped his square rimmed glasses down a little, the better to address his eager pupils.

"Good morning, class! I am Dr. Ronald Pinkus, Professor of Trozology!"

And he wrote upon the blackboard behind him with vigor as he said it, accidentally flipping the 'k' in 'Pinkus'. He turned back towards the crowd.

"But you can call me Pinky! Ha-ha-ha!"

It was a carrying little laugh, bouncing and pinging excitedly off the walls with a lonely echo.

"I'll be your teacher this semester, and that's because, well, I'm the only teacher of this subject!"

He giggled again. No one said anything.

"You'll be instructed on the topics of Poitilism, Narfonics, and, of course, Trozology. _Allllllllll_ grades are final, except, of course, when they're not, in which case... I'll get back to you on that!" said he, chuckling to himself once more. "Now, are there any questions? Anyone? Yes! Nilly."

If Nilly had raised her hand, no one noticed. But, then again, no one seemed to care. Perhaps it was because Nilly had no hands to raise in the first place. Perhaps this was because Nilly was actually a sack of flour. Or perhaps it was because all the "students" were made up of things like an empty bottle of soda, a bag of corn chips, two toilet paper rolls stacked one on top of the other, and a plunger. Whatever the reason, only Pinky seemed to have recognized Nilly and her very silent question. He didn't seem to mind, however. On the contrary, he positively beamed, acknowledging his pitiful excuse for a pupil-laden classroom as if they were real mice, voles, hamsters, and shrews hanging onto his every word like campfire kids to a spooky story.

"Well, I'm glad you asked that, Nilly, because I happen to be _verrrrry_ versed in the subject!" Pinky snickered, eyes half-lidded as he picked imaginary dirt from his fingers, looking in the direction of his students with a very devious smirk indeed.

Several doors down and around a corner, in the middle of a long hallway, a locker was being absolutely mutilated. Books, pencils, various household tools, and a half-eaten burrito wrapped in tin foil were carelessly tossed onto the floor, its aggressor in a state of pure panic.

"Ohhhhh, shoot. Where _are_ they?!" Gadget growled, hair a little unkempt as she flung a notebook over her shoulder, almost hitting a passerby in the process.

"Hey! Watch it!" the boy mouse shrieked, dodging out of the path of the wayward notebook just in time.

Gadget didn't even seem to notice as she continued to tear through her locker, muttering angrily to herself as she threw a pencil case onto the floor. It burst open. One of the pencils popped out, rolling all the way across from the locker and underneath the door of room three-nineteen. On and on the little chartreuse pencil rolled, finally coming to rest with a soft ' _plink_ ' against Dr. Globetrotter's desk. His ear twitched at the sound and his head peered around the side of the desk at its source. There sat a thin, yellow pencil. He picked it up, frowning, and set it down on a far side of his desk.

"As I was saying," Globetrotter rang, clearing his throat, but he'd barely reached out for his mug of steaming hot coffee before the class was interrupted yet again, this time by a very haphazard-looking and goggle-less Gadget.

"Sorry I'm late," she mumbled, head down and gaze firmly directed at the floor as she shuffled past a barrage of staring eyes to plop into her seat between Maisy and Tillie. Gadget shut her eyes tight. She, along with everyone else in the room, knew what was coming, and they all held their breath in anticipation.

The unpleasant echo throughout the room was palpable as Globetrotter set down his mug, glaring.

"Oh, well, I suppose we all can just excuse Miss Gadget here from arriving two minutes past our start time. Obviously, she has more important things to do than be punctual. I guess _my_ precious hours of time spent preparing for this class that will help all of _you_ get a proper education simply don't matter in light of one tardily-inclined, mucilage-chewing student forgetting their pack of lime-flavored gum right before 7:30, is that right?"

Sarcasm dripped like venom from every syllable, causing Gadget to shrink ever lower in her seat. Somewhere in the class, journal boy jotted down "tardily-inclined" and "mucilage-chewing" under the ever-growing list of Globetrotter insults. Maisy glared at their teacher, but, like every other student, she didn't dare say anything. To retort meant a week's worth of detention, and they all knew that it was better to bite the bullet now than suffer the consequences for a harsh retort later.

"It's not like I spend all night grading your measly excuses for a thesis, carefully combing every paragraph for even a sliver of intelligence, while you're at home watching reruns of Dukes of Hazard..."

On and on it went, ironically cutting into his so-called "precious time" to teach. On and on he rolled, all the way up until 7:55 AM. The only good thing about it was that it was twenty-five minutes they didn't have to spend studying. Some had taken to drawing little sketches in their notebooks, others took the opportunity to sneak in a snack or two, and Tillie was full-on knitting.

Finally, he reached the end of his spiel. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Now... Seeing as that's hopefully enlarged your minds a little, _please_ turn to page eighty-seven of your textbooks, as we delve into the absolutely incredible topic of Meiosis."

"'Incredible', my arse," Maisy muttered. "Couldn't find your goggles, huh?"

Gadget shook her head, too embarrassed to give a verbal reply.

"Oh, leave her alone. We've forgotten our fair share of trinkets before," Tillie whispered, putting away her knitting. "What are you so upset about? I thought you had hearts for Globetrotter."

Maisy didn't reply, but shot another scathing glare at Globetrotter as she pulled out her textbook.

"Trusting that we won't have any more interruptions," bit their teacher, shooting a look at Gadget as he said it, "I'd like you all to turn your attention to..."

 _Bang_.

Everyone jumped, including Globetrotter. He turned behind him to stare at the wall. What...?

"A-As I was saying, please direct your attention to..."

_BANG._

Nobody jumped this time, but Globetrotter once more turned sharply 'round to inspect the wall. The heck?

A few seconds passed. Nothing. Perhaps someone was just doing maintenance... in the unused classroom?

"Kindly direct your atten-"

_BANG!_

"Graaaaaaaaahhhh!" Globetrotter growled, storming out of the classroom and followed by a host of eyes watching him go. Gadget cautiously sat up in her chair as he went.

Down the hallways he trundled, shoulders hunched, every footstep a declaration of annoyance as he made for door two-ten, pushing aside the occasional student or teacher who dared cross his path. It was fortunate the door was a little ajar, for he kicked it open with such force that it flew open, BANGED against the wall, and reverberated so heavily that it shook the walls. Had it been closed the door handle probably would have broken along with it.

"What in _CURIE'S_ name are you _DOING_?!" the angry little mouse shouted, smoke practically steaming off of him as he fumed, his fiery gaze trained squarely at the tall, lanky mouse in front of him.

Pinky was in mid-swing, one leg raised high up in the air as his paws clutched firmly around a wooden baseball bat. He was dressed in full baseball attire, and his classroom had been very primitively set up to resemble a sandlot of sorts, each of his "students" serving as the players. Globetrotter's explosion had thrown him off only a smidgen. If anything, Pinky beamed and waved at the newcomer.

"Mr. Globetrotter! You're just in time for the home run! Or... you would have been if you hadn't thrown me off just now," he giggled.

"Would you _kindly_ explain why you're using your room as a sports arena?!" Globetrotter snapped.

"Oh! Well, Nilly here wanted to know if I was well-versed in the thrilling art of baseball, and I couldn't turn that one down 'cause, you know, I am. Hmhm!"

Globetrotter turned to look at this "Nilly", arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

"That's a sack of flour," he retorted, unimpressed.

Pinky gasped.

"How rude! He didn't mean it, Nilly. Did you, Brain? Say you're sorry to Nilly!"

"It's _Brian_ , and I am not apologizing to an inanimate object! And I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from playing baseball in a classroom! Don't you realize you're disturbing the peace - upsetting my students and keeping me from my work?"

"Ohhhhhhhhh. Is your classroom on the other side of that wall?"

" _Yes._ "

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Got it, Brain! We'll play baseball later, shall we?"

"You _shall_."

And with that, he stormed off... right into Olivia, in fact, who was in full delivery mode. The force of their impact knocked her backwards onto the floor.

"Ah! My letter!" she screeched, reaching for a little yellow note that had slipped out of her hands.

"Hmph," Globetrotter muttered, completely ignoring her as he trudged back to his classroom.

Olivia watched him go, reeling back a little at the slam of a door five seconds later.

"Ooo. Too angry. Too angry," she mumbled to herself, sprinting up to classroom two-ten and peering inside.

Pinky was now hard at work not playing baseball. All the chairs, tables, and "students" were being reshuffled to resemble a normal classroom again, the big television in the back rolled up to the front behind the main desk to serve as a new source of entertainment.

"Sorry, class. Baseball is canceled for the moment," apologized Pinky, hooking up the tv as Olivia tip-toed into the classroom and carefully shut the door behind her. "Oh well. That's why I brought my Honeymooners tapes, "he exclaimed, whipping out the tapes from the stand's shelf in a flourish. He was just about to pop one in when a light cough caught his attention. He turned around. There was Olivia smiling at him.

"Oh! Hello, Olivia!"

"Hello, Mr. Pinky," she said, a little shyly this time. "I've got something for you."

"Another letter?" he asked, taking it from her and reading:

_Dear Mr. Pinkus,_

_I must regret to inform you that baseball or sports of any kind are not allowed in the hallways and classrooms. While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I also appreciate my job, and I can't very well keep it when there's a home run going on a few doors down. This is for your own sake. I do hope this reaches you before Globetrotter does..._

_Sincerely,_   
_Mrs. Judson_

"I think baseball in the school is a wonderful idea," Olivia piped up as Pinky read the letter, his ears lowering a little as he went over each word. "I heard we used to have a field, but... they got rid of that years ago." Her own little ears, round and pink, drooped at this. Pinky thought a moment.

"Well... perhaps we could make a petition?"

"Petition?"

"Certainly!" said he, setting down his tapes for a moment. "We could write up a letter saying we'd like a baseball stadium back on the lot, and if we get enough signatures..."

"We'll get one!" Olivia gasped, tiny hands tucking up against her chest in excitement.

"Well, maybe. It still has to pass the board of directors now, don't it?"

"We'll get a lot of signatures then. You get the form, and I'll get people to sign it!"

Pinky smiled.

"You've got yourself a petition there, Missy! I'll draw one up tonight!"

"Good good!" Olivia exclaimed, bouncing up and down, tam-o'-shanter bouncing this way and that. "So what do you teach?"

"Oh, a little of this. A little of that," Pinky said, dodging the question. "Do you like The Honeymooners?"

"The Honeywho?" she asked, shuffling about his desk and picking up one of the bunsen burners to peer into it with a curious eye.

"Now don't tell me you've never heard of one of the best television shows of all time!"

"Not really. I don't watch a lot of tv."

But whatever Pinky said next in response to this she didn't catch, for she had just discovered his notepad, and of the number of colorful stickers coating it, one in particular stood out to her. She gasped again.

"Is that a radish rose whatchamawhoozit?!"

Pinky was caught off guard. He stopped mid-sentence, stared at her, and slammed his hands down on the table, making her jump.

"You know what a radish rose whatchamawhoozit is?!"

"Look!" Olivia said, sweeping off her tammie, the better to see her fluffy ears. Hanging from each ear was a small earring, both shaped like radish rose whatchamawhoozits. "My mum used to use them for parties! I always liked them."

Pinky went wide-eyed.

"My mum did, too! You know... you're the first mouse I've met who knows what that is."

"I'm surprised most people _don't_ know what that is!" Olivia giggled.

"Me too!" Pinky chuckled back, eyes a little misty.

For a moment they just stood there, smiling at one another, two radish rose whatchamawhoozit buddies meeting for the first time. There was something very comforting about it.

The slow _tick, tick, tick_ of a wall clock nearby brought Olivia back to Earth, and she stepped back shyly.

"I... probably should go," she said, smiling. "She's probably waiting for me."

Pinky's face fell.

"We-.. uhh... would you like to stay for just a minute longer?"

"Sorry, but I really do have to go," replied Olivia regretfully, looking very much as if she didn't want to.

"Umm... what else do you like to do that's... not watching tv?"

"Well... umm... I do like to sing."

Pinky beamed, dug in his box, and pulled out a microphone attached to a small radio-looking device.

"Do you like karaoke?"

Olivia _beamed_.

Several doors down and one wall over, Globetrotter had everyone in a stupor. Gadget could barely keep her eyes open, one of the boys had taken to drawing circles over and over again in his notebook, and Maisy's brother was actually snoring. Perhaps Globetrotter would have cared if he hadn't been so engrossed in the exciting subject of Meoisis, one hand clasped firmly around a nearly-drained cup of coffee, the other brandishing a thick ruler at the blackboard behind him.

"The initial metaphase takes place when the homologous pairs travel along the metaphase plate. Kinetochore microtubles from the spindle poles attach to the-"

He stopped. His ears twitched. Some of the students lifted their heads, shifting in their seats. A distant sound of singing could be heard, just beyond the wall. Globetrotter frowned.

"Um. The microtubles attach directly to-"

It was soft at first, then it grew - louder, louder, _louder_. Pinky and Olivia's singing had escalated from a light hum to a crescendo and climbed all the way to the top in a full on opera. The student with the journal counted down on his fingers to his friend: three, two, one...

_SNAP!_

Right on cue, Globetrotter applied so much anger... or... pressure, rather, to his ruler that it snapped clean in half. Journal boy made a mark in his book: t'was the fourth one snapped this semester, apparently.

For the second time that morning, Globetrotter stomped out of his classroom, although this time he was followed, not by one student, not by two, but almost the entire class, albeit tepidly. Although he probably wouldn't notice them, considering the state he was in, caution was still advised... at least to a degree. Ronald Pinkus was in for it _big time_ and they couldn't afford to miss this. They'd heard the rumors: that when Mr. B. got this flustered he'd actually physically vibrate, lose all mastery of the English language, and sometimes even spout intense poetry at the accuser. It was one of the only exciting things that happened in his classes and they sure as heck weren't going to pass up the opportunity when it presented itself.

Science room three-nineteen's teacher had barely managed four steps out the door, however, when he was approached by a tall lady mouse in a green dress. All the students moved back a pace, retreating into the classroom.

"Ah! Mr. Globetrotter. I was just coming to remind you that the teacher's conference is this weekend at 5:00 PM."

"Yes, Ms. Weatherby. I'll be there," he scratched, barely containing himself.

Ms. Weatherby stepped away, not the least bit perturbed, whether due to pure naivety or a lack of concern none could tell.

She was barely two feet away when Globetrotter continued his trek, down the hall and around a corner. His students followed at a careful pace. He'd just turned the corner when a boy vole with glasses knocked into him, his homework flying everywhere.

"M-Mr. B! I-I mean, Mr. Globetrotter!" he stammered, shaking from head to tail.

"What is it?!" Globetrotter growled, impatience growing by the millisecond.

"I-I-I just wanted to ask about the upcoming assignment. Is there any way I could turn mine in just... a day late? M-My mother is sick in the hospital, you see, and-"

But he was abruptly cut off as Globetrotter shoved him aside with a sharp, "NO!" to boot.

"O-Or I can just turn it in on time then! N-No biggie! Eheh...!" the vole stuttered, clutching the few remaining papers to his chest ever so tightly and quickly picking up the rest before running off. He jumped as he almost ran into Globetrotter's entire class. Gadget reached out a hand towards him, as if to apologize on Globetrotter's behalf, but Maisy stilled her with a shake of the head and a clutch of the paw. They tip-toed on.

Globetrotter was almost at door two-ten when plump Mrs. Judson came flying down the hallway.

"Globetrotter! Don't you even think about touching that door!"

The little mouse grumbled.

"I have EVERY RIGHT to open that door!" he shouted, already trembling. A couple of the boys in the crowd started bouncing up and down excitedly. This was just getting better and better. They might actually get a full show!

"You don't know what that poor boy's been through. He might be a complete boob, but you leave him alone! Let me talk to him," Mrs. Judson spouted, paws on her hips as she went face-to-face with Globetrotter.

"Mrs. Judson," Globetrotter replied, full on vibrating now, "If you don't get out of my way, I swear I'll report you to the principle for unlawful involvement in a teacher's affairs!"

"Hmph! 'Unlawful involvement.' There's no such thing."

"Oh, isn't there? I can MAKE it a thing! And," he added, voice low and threatening, "I'll tell them about Marley."

Mrs. Judson went wide-eyed.

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would," Globetrotter seethed.

With brows furrowed and lips tense, she turned in a flourish and marched off, shooting his class a harsh glare as she rounded a corner, shaking her head at them.

"You watch your step," she hissed.

Some of them exchanged worried glances. It was incredible Globetrotter hadn't even noticed the crowd following him; so enslaved by anger was he. It was almost impressive. The entire group collectively held their breath as their teacher, fuming, flung open the door.

"WHAT THE BLAZES ARE YOU-"

But at this, he stopped, for what met Globetrotter's eyes rendered him speechless.

"Aaaaaaand wwwwwwwelcome to the show!"

The room was unrecognizable. A sparkling blue floor complemented an equally sparkling purple stadium decorated with red velvet curtains, all so dazzling that Globetrotter had to rub at his eyes to stop himself from going blind. The entire place looked like a game show one might see on tv - Wheel of Fortune or Who Wants to be a Millionaire? Energetic, happy-go-lucky music blared on a little radio in a corner, completing the effect, and a seemingly disembodied voice, all flamboyant and hospitable, dominated the scene.

"Come on in! Take a seat!" remarked the voice, which turned out to be Pinky's as he scooted Globetrotter into the room and onto a chair right next to Olivia, who waved at him.

"That's my new teacher!" she whispered excitedly to him, pointing at Pinky, who was fully decked out in a purple suit and bow tie. Globetrotter sputtered.

"Now, h-h-hold on! I need to tell you-"

"Why, yes. You do need to tell me your name, good Sir!" interrupted Pinky, holding up a microphone right in front of Globetrotter's face. "And you are?"

"I... ma... puh... G-Globetrotter, b-but that-"

"Ladies and gentleman, give it up for GLOOOOOOBETROTTER!"

An invisible crowd cheered. Olivia clapped.

"And your name, young lady?"

"Olivia!"

"OLIVIA!"

More clapping.

By this time, all of Globetrotter's class was pressed up against two-ten's door, eagerly peering in at the activity with wide, bugged out eyes.

"Now, folks, you know we just completed the singing competition, with an outstanding performance by little miss Olivia."

The invisible crowd cheered again, and Olivia blushed.

"But now it's time for the moment you've all been waiting for! Drum-roll, please," requested Pinky, and right on cue... there came a thundering drum-roll.

The entire class was now shuffling into the room, taking spots at the back that had actually been set up for a proper crowd. They filled every seat.

"TUUUUUURBULENT TRIVIAAAAAAA!"

Clapping and cheering from the invisible crowd on... the radio? another dimension? ... was now mixed in with actual applause from Globetrotter's class. He turned to stare at them, flabbergasted. He had an actual audience?! How embarrassing...

Two pedestals, each with a big red button in their centers, rose up out of the floor to rest in front of Globetrotter and Olivia.

"Now, you all know the rules!" Pinky continued, gesturing to a giant board behind him that was laden with a plethora of different topics. "Our contestant with the most points picks a topic, and both try to answer it! Whoever gets the most points at the end of the show wins!"

And he jumped up and down at this, Olivia mirroring him as she bounced around in her seat. Globetrotter was silent. He wouldn't say anything. He _couldn't_ say anything. Every time he opened his mouth to voice his complaints, no sound came out, as if he was so caught off guard by the affair that he simply didn't know how to react. And rightly so. He simply had no words for this.

"Olivia! You're up first, my dear, so pick a subject!"

Olivia stood up in her seat, thought for a moment, then pointed at one of the topics.

"Ummm... I pick... Science!"

"Science it is! And heeeeeere's your question!"

And the little box marked 'SCIENCE' flipped over to reveal a small paragraph, which Pinky read out:

_The first known telescope was submitted as a patent to the Netherlands government in 1609 by which spectacle maker?_

Someone slammed down on their red button.

"Yeeeeeeeeeees?" Pinky questioned, sporting a wide, toothy grin.

Surprisingly, it was Globetrotter who answered. He actually was standing up out of his seat, looking mad as a hare.

"That's preposterous! It was patented in 1608, not '09, and the answer is Hans Lippershey!"

"CORRECT!"

 _Ding ding ding ding ding!_ went Globetrotter's big red button, as it flashed on and off a luminous green color. He sat down almost shyly in his seat, as if surprised he'd found himself out of it, as his entire class clapped and cheered. He turned to look at them with an expression of absolute surprise.

"Congratulations! You've just earned ten points! But Olivia is still in the lead with thirty. What's your next topic, Olivia?" Pinky asked, an open hand gesturing to the board.

"Ummmm... music!" she piped.

"You got it!" Pinky exclaimed, as the next little box labeled 'MUSIC' flipped over. Once again, Pinky read aloud:

_Who composed this famous piece?_

And a deep, booming tune played loud and clear throughout the room. Olivia slammed down on her button.

"Go ahead, Olivia!"

"Mozart!" she shouted out, but...

_EHNG!_

Wrong!

"Ohhhh. I'm so sorry, Olivia! But it's not Mozart! Do we have any other takers? Anyone?"

Globetrotter's button rang again, albeit with a bit more hesitance this time.

"Globetrotter!" Pinky shouted.

"That's obviously Beethoven," Globetrotter muttered, arms crossed indignantly.

"CORRECT!"

 _Ding ding ding ding ding!_ rang the little button again as ten more points went up on Globetrotter's side of the scoreboard. The crowd went wild. Some of his students had actually gotten popcorn from... somewhere, and looked as though they were having the time of their lives.

"Go, Mr. B!" some shouted out, and, "Trotter! Trotter!" others cheered. "You can do it!" one gal said. Globetrotter's ears perked up a touch. They were actually... supporting him?

"Oooooo. Globetrotter's giving you a run for your money, Olivia! Better pick a good one!" Pinky egged on.

"Hmm. I piiiiiiiick... mathematics!" she shouted, standing in her seat, two pink paws set firmly on the pedestal in front of her.

"Let's see that math question!" rolled Pinky, pointing at a box with 'MATH' written on it in big, bold letters, and reading out:

_The square root of 6,428 is..._

Before Pinky could even list out the options, Globetrotter's red button was punched.

"80.1748090113!"

"CORRECT!" Pinky yelled, and the crowd exploded. He was now tied with Olivia!

Globetrotter actually went slightly pink in the face as his class whooped and hollered and cheered him on. He almost dared to smile a little. This was... actually... kinda fun...?

"Aaaaaaand now! For the FINAL question! This one... is a TIE BREAKER," Pinky exclaimed dramatically. At this, all the lights dimmed at once, with spotlights thrown on Globetrotter and Olivia only. "Since you both have thirty points each, I'll be picking the question," Pinky continued. "Whoever gets this one right... is the _ultimate winner_."

The music boomed just as dramatically. Globetrotter actually swallowed thickly. The crowd went silent.

"Here... is your final question, in 'Entertainment'," said Pinky, and he read out:

Which character in The Honeymooners was known for his catchphrase, "Bang, zoom, right to the moon!"

Globetrotter began to sweat, not because he was oblivious, even though it was common knowledge that he rarely watched tv, but because he was embarrassed that he knew the answer. He had to answer, though. Surely, the kid wouldn't know. Would she...? And yet...

SLAM! went Olivia's paw onto bright red button. No way.

"Olivia?" Pinky asked, all ears.

"Mary Poppins!" she rang out.

 _ENGH!_ went her button.

"Ohhhhhh. I'm sorry, but that's not the right answer! Globetrotter?"

He was sweating all the more now. He'd surely be teased forever for this, but he couldn't not answer a question he knew the response to...

"Globetrotter? Ten seconds!" Pinky countered.

"Come on, Trotter!" one of his students shouted.

"Yeah, you can do it, Mr. B! Come on!"

And more shouts... and more... and more built up, until finally...

SLAM! went Globetrotter's paw on the big red button.

"Yeeeeeeeeees?" asked Pinky.

"R-Ralph Kramden!" Globetrotter shouted out, eyes tightly closed.

A pause. And then...

"CORRECT! GLOBETROTTER WINS!"

The din was deafening. Balloons and confetti actually fell from the sky as the lights went up all around Globetrotter, Olivia, Pinky, and the entire class as triumphant music was played. Olivia was jumping up and down, actually hugging Globetrotter, not at all perturbed that she'd lost, as the crowd poured out from their seats to congratulate their teacher. Globetrotter was completely stiff. How the heck was he supposed to react to this?

"Congraaaaaaaatulations, Globetrotter! Let's see what you've won!"

There were no show girls, so Pinky himself had to run off-set, grab a selection of items, and fly back onto the stage in front of Globetrotter.

"You win: an orange juicerator, a block of Worcestershire cheese, and a week's supply of paperclips!"

All these he dumped into Globetrotter's hands. Everyone clapped and cheered, and the celebration might have gone on forever had the bell not rung.

"Oh! That's the bell! Time to go, everyone!" Pinky directed, and they all filed out of the classroom, Globetrotter and all, Pinky bringing up the rear. He was still in his purple outfit. "Everybody go on to your next class! Go on! Thanks for playing!" he said, spending an extra second or two to thank Olivia for being such a good sport and handing her a bag of chips. She beamed, thanked him, and skipped off, crunching on them happily. Globetrotter remained, the only participant who hadn't quite taken it all in.

"What... just happened?" he asked, turning to stare at Pinky, his bulky prizes still clasped in his arms.

"You'd better get back to your room, Brain! Your next class is about to start!" was all that Pinky said as he gently pushed him forward, ducked back into his classroom, and shut the door behind him.

Globetrotter just stood there for a moment, staring at door two-ten, before looking down at the batch of prizes he was still holding. Without a word, he slowly, almost drunkenly, meandered back to his classroom. With some difficulty, he opened the door, set down his newfound possessions upon his desk, and breathed in and out, slowly, deeply...

What... had just happened? Never in his life had he ever experience anything like that, not in this school, not in public, not... anywhere, for that matter. It was a time-waster. It was ridiculous. It was... fun? He hated to admit that to himself: that somewhere, deep down, he'd managed to enjoy something so asinine. And yet...

He took a minute to go through each of the "prizes". An orange... juicerator, it was called? It was a portly thing, about half the length of his forearm, and sporting a curved spout that looked a bit like a faucet. How pointless. Unlikely he'd ever find a use for such an item. He'd never even heard of the thing until now. He tossed it in an unused drawer. The second was a block of Worcestershire cheese. That wasn't... all bad. He quite liked this type. In fact, it was his favorite. How did that bumbling idiot know that? Last of all was the "week's supply of paperclips". Handy, he supposed. Nothing wrong with some extra tools for one's classroom. These he put in a top drawer that was visited much more frequently.

He sighed again and stuck his hands in his back pockets. Something crinkled against his right paw... Huh?

He pulled out a note.

_Thanks for playing with us! You have a lovely smile. - Pinky_

Globetrotter blinked, taken aback, and was caught off guard at a sharp knock on his door. He tossed the note in the trash.

"C-Come in!" he stammered.

It was two of his students: journal boy and his friend.

"Sorry, Mr. B! We forgot our backpacks!" journal boy said, as the two mice ran to grab their packs. But as they headed back towards the door, they stopped. "By the way, um... congratulations, Mr. B!"

"Yeah, that was awesome!" his friend exclaimed.

And with that, they exited the room, closing the door behind them.

Globetrotter stood rooted to the spot. He'd surely die from all these positive comments. Never had he received so many before; at least, not under this roof. He peered into the trash can, paused a moment, then extracted the little note from it. He read it again:

_Thanks for playing with us! You have a lovely smile. - Pinky_

He settled on those last words again, for they stuck out to him.

_You have a lovely smile._

And for a moment, though no one could see him, though no one was watching, he held the little note close to his chest, closed his eyes... and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Ferrum is the Latin term for Iron (Fe), which is sometimes found in paperclips.
> 
> \- The nickname "Mr. B." is actually an obscure reference to another fandom I'm in. If you want the full story, message me. Heh.
> 
> \- Globetrotter's reaction to Gadget being late was inspired by a friend's story in which one of her actual teachers would respond in a similarly harsh fashion to late students.
> 
> \- Yes, Olivia's radish earrings are absolutely a reference to Luna Lovegood's equally unusual earrings.
> 
> \- All of the information about meiosis I got directly from Wikipedia.
> 
> \- The game show part of this story was my favorite part to write. Originally, I was going to have the whole thing be a lot more low-key, but this is technically a cartoon world, after all, so I figured... why not go all out?
> 
> \- I finished this at 1:35 AM at night, two days after a surgery and while in pain. I have no regrets.


	3. Sodium Bicarbonate

**September 16th, 1993 - 11:48 PM**

Two little feet raced pitter-patter down a chatter-filled hallway in A.C.M.E. Arts & Sciences, its occupant laden with pen and petition, eagerly calling out to any hapless individual that came her way as that ever-present tam-o-shanter bounced atop her head.

"Signatures! Come put down your signatures! Sign the petition! Bring baseball back to A.C.M.E.!" Olivia called out, her little jingle ringing in its thick Scottish accent down the corridor and bouncing off the walls. "Baseball for all! Hear you shout! Let them know or we'll strike out!"

Like a fuzzy brown bullet she shot through the school, passing students and teachers, janitors and gym instructors, nearly running into the wall on two occasions, and receiving a sharp reprimand of "Watch it!" or "Land sakes!" from those whose book pages and scarves she ruffled on her flight down the hallways.

"Let your voice be heard! Put your name down! Have a- OOF!"

Olivia gasped as she landed on the hard, linoleum floor, having been knocked back by something tall and firm. She shook her head and looked up... and up... and up, into the stern face of Basil, teacher of Advanced Science and Deduction. Even for a mouse he was rather lanky, towering above Globetrotter and practically a giant to Olivia. The only other mouse in the school who reached his height was Pinky. He glared at her, one eyebrow cocked in silent judgement as he peered down from above, a great slab of papers cradled snugly against his side.

"Oh...," Olivia mumbled, gulping as she quickly stood up, face scrunching, and shook off her clothes, her little tam-o-shanter and petition laying very sorrowfully at her feet.

Basil sighed.

"Young lady," he began, bending down to pick up her hat and place it securely back on her head. "This is the third time this week we've met under unnecessarily chaotic circumstances and it's become... rather an interference in my daily schedule. Would you _kindly_ keep harnessed certain frivolities at play, Miss Flabbergast?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Basil," Olivia muttered shyly, and not unkindly. "I'll be more careful."

She picked her clipboard with petition up off the floor, a little embarrassed.

"Sign my petition...?" she ventured, holding up the paper for Basil to see. He bent down to get a closer look at it.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"It's for a baseball stadium!"

"Baseball stadium?"

"Yes!" Olivia said, nodding excitedly. "So we can get sports back to the school!"

"Sports?" Basil nipped, practically spitting out the word as though it was a nasty slur. "Miss Flim-Flam, the last thing this university of science and culture needs is a bunch of dimwitted degenerates galloping about chasing after a ball. You'd do better to abandon the whole matter, in my opinion."

Olivia hung her head.

"But I doubt it will amount to anything," he continued, picking lint off his cardigan in a snooty fashion. "The most you could hope for is ten signatures, at least. Continue on your hapless venture if you must."

"Really?!"

"Yeeees yes yes. Now, run along."

"Thank you, Mr. Basil! I'll get more than ten. You'll see!"

"Jolly good," Basil replied curtly, sarcastically, pausing to flick a piece of dirt off Olivia's jacket. "Good day to you."

Olivia watched him as he went, his long shoes snapping _click, click, click_ against the floor. She drew out a long breath of utter relief. Basil was fairer than Globetrotter. _Anyone_ was fairer than Globetrotter. However, he still could get a bit cross when rubbed the wrong way, and it certainly wasn't the first time she'd gotten on his irritable side. She'd have to be more careful.

And so, as she continued her trek down the school hallways, calling out as she went (a bit more quietly this time), she jogged rather than sprinted, slipping between passerby with an "Excuse me" or "Pardon" and taking extra precaution not to bump into any more teachers, especially Globetrotter...

"Petition! Come you all and sign! Redefine!"

Maisy tossed Olivia an annoyed glance as she ran past, huffing a little and flipping back her hair as she dug through her locker.

"Since when did the principle allow kids to run around the school? I didn't think he'd be cool with that," she muttered.

Next to her, a chocolate-furred mouse leaned against his adjacent locker, deep in silent conversation as he texted rapidly on his phone.

"Why do you care?" he asked, not looking up at her.

"I dunno. It's just... This is like... a high-profile university, right? There shouldn't _be_ any kids."

"We're kids."

"Um... _Excuse me_. I'm like... nineteen."

"Yeah. That's young, Maisy."

"Whatever," she spat, flicking her hair back again as she found what she was looking for: a red pencil with yellow flower print slapped all over it.

"Olivia is Flaversham's daughter," Gadget spoke from across the hall at her own locker, snapping her bulbous goggles atop her head as a matter-of-fact. "Everyone knows that." Tillie nodded next to her.

"Okay, but, like...," Maisy continued, pulling out a journal and tucking it under her arm, "... he works. When does he have time to watch her? He just lets her run around the school?"

"Well, isn't Mrs. Judson her nanny?" Tillie offered helpfully, albeit rather quietly. "I think that-"

Several students sprinted by. Tillie paused to let them pass before continuing.

"I think that she watches her in the nurse's office most of the day and lets her run errands."

"Yeah, but-," Maisy began, before being cut off herself as another batch of students trundled by, and then another. "But that doesn't give her leave to just-" More students. "To just run around whenever she-" Even more students. By this point, she could barely even see Gadget and Tillie. "Oh my gosh! I _hate_ not having neighboring lockers!"

"It's lunchtime, Maisy," the male mouse said beside her, closing his phone with a sharp snap. "We should get going."

"Ugh. Fine. I'm starving anyway."

And so off they went, quartet heading for the cafeteria at the prompt hour of 12:00 PM, taking care not to bump into anyone as they entered the huge room.

Unlike the rest of the school, this area was terribly outdated. Or, rather, it had none of the classiness that the majority of the facility offered. Far from being dressed up in a mahogany coat, with comfortable seating, double-pane windows, and classical music that pumped itself like oxygen through the more casual areas of the building, the cafeteria resembled nothing less than something vomited out of an 80s shopping mall. The blue and purple paneling; the flashing neon food signs; the Whitney Houston music trapped perpetually within the speakers. It had it all. Students called it "The Flashback" or "The Blot", depending on who you talked to. The space had been heavily renovated a decade ago in an attempt to reflect the aesthetic at the time, and if the principal in office hadn't been ousted at the time for his radical ways the facility may very well have looked quite different by this point. As it stood, the cafeteria was an eye sore for some, a breath of fresh air for others, and it was a popular spot in which to congregate. If nothing else, the music was a relief. There was only so much Chopin one could take.

Chatter filled the dining area as the quartet entered. Already the tables were filling up, the smell of pizza and dumplings heavy in the air. Once upon a time, the food had reflected the decor: posh, healthy, and expensive. And then, of course, the cafeteria had been renovated, and with it the menu. No one had ever bothered to change the hot dogs back to ham; the grilled cheese back to caviar. Lemon sherbet tasted much better than shitake, and the students liked it that way.

"Think they're gonna have the jelly sauce again today?" Gadget asked, standing up on tip-toe to peer over at the food counter.

"Ew. Gosh. I hope not. That stuff is gro- HO MY GOSH," gasped Maisy.

"What?" Gadget asked, looking around, eyes wide. She hoped another wasp hadn't broken into the cafeteria again. Two had welcomed themselves in in the last week and she didn't think she could handle the stress another day.

"He's here," Maisy stressed, clutching at her heart and grabbing hold of Gadget's shoulder rather tightly.

Tillie and Gadget followed her gaze all the way across the floor to the food bar. There stood Pinky, dressed today in lab pants and a blue and gray striped shirt whose sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Had it not been for the ridiculously long white lab pants that spilled over his shoes, Gadget thought he might have looked rather fetching. As it stood, though, he didn't. Maisy thought otherwise.

"Ugh. He's so hot."

"So hot he melts your brains?" the male mouse quipped, back to texting on his phone.

Maisy shot him a nasty look. Tillie didn't even notice.

"Wow. Clam chowder special," she mused, completely serious as she stared, astonished, at the counter.

"You're focusing on the food?!" Maisy exclaimed, flabbergasted. Tillie remained oblivious.

"Oh, I hope Mrs. Brisby isn't too early today. I rather like lunch break...," Tillie mused, loosening her shawl a little.

"But you also like her classes," said Gadget, smiling.

"I do. They're fun."

"Learning about weeds is fun?" asked Maisy.

"Agriculture is more interesting than you think it would be! You should try it sometime. It's fun!"

"Tillie, the only fun thing about this school _is_ the lunch break."

The dark-furred he mouse with them rolled his eyes, his hands in his pockets.

"Seriously, Maisy? Not even the Chemistry class is interesting?" he mentioned, incredulous.

"Okay, well, that is a little bit interesting..."

The he mouse sighed.

"You're incredible. Our parents are paying good money for this school. You should be grateful. Come on. Let's stake a seat."

A few tables down, a gaggle of mice, moles, and a rat or two sat, chattering loudly. One of them, a black-haired mouse in a frilly, once-piece dress, sash around the middle and dark hair tied up in a bun, stood up in her chair and waved in their direction.

"Maaaaaaisy, girl! Come on! We've been waiting for you!"

"GIIIIRL! I was just about to ditch these losers! Gimme a sec!" Maisy called back, beaming. "Sorry, guys. I gotta go."

"Wha-..? But I thought we were gonna-" the male mouse began, taken aback.

"Sorry, Dex. I forgot I'd promised Marvell I'd be here at noon. We'll catch up later, I promise. Okay?"

"Yeah. Sure...," Dex shrugged dejectedly.

"Thanks, Dex. Bye, y'all!" said Maisy, and she ran off to join the loquacious group.

"Bye, loser!" Gadget joked back, shaking her head. "Airhead."

"Remind me why we hang out with her again?" Tillie asked, as the remaining three headed for the food bar.

Gadget shrugged.

"She's been my friend since middle school. I'd feel weird just ditching her."

"You wouldn't be missing much," Dex muttered, although there was a hesitancy in his voice.

Gadget threw him a sideways glance as she grabbed a tray, Tillie and Dex following suit.

"You know that's not true, Dex. She's a bit into herself, but you know she loves you."

Dex shrugged.

One by one, a steady line of students at the bar filed past the counter, picking off a box of salad here, a cup of macaroni there. Things reached a stand still at the chili bowl. Dex and Gadget stood up on tip-toe for a couple seconds, flattened back out on their feet, stared at each other, and rolled their eyes, sniggering. But of course...

The hold up, as per the norm, was Pip, one of the restaurant hands and the only chipmunk in the entire school. He was terribly chatty, not to mention contentious if you dared complain about any aspect of the food. Either something was wrong and he needed to comment on it, or someone he recognized as a friend had just crossed his path. Judging by the chipper tone of his voice, Gadget guessed it was the latter today.

"So what's with this petition? Lemme see that paper, sister!"

And he whipped from someone's hand a petite clipboard entrusted with several sheets of lined paper. He read through it quickly, nose almost touching the paper.

Gadget, Dex, and Tillie peered around the crowd ahead of them to see who had handed him the paper. Oh. Naturally.

There stood Olivia, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as Pip perused her petition, a wide, expectant smile on her face. Was there no place she wouldn't invade?

"Hmmm," Pip mused, tapping his foot a mile a minute as his keen eyes roved over the paper one more time. "Weeeeeeell, I don't usually sign these things, buuuuut... baseball sounds like a worthy cause. Ya' got a pen?"

"Here you go!" Olivia squeaked happily, extracting from the inside of her coat pocket a blue pen and offering it to Pip. He took it swiftly and signed the petition just as fast.

"Just make sure you get me a position as umpire!" Pip said, handing her back the petition and pen.

"Oh, I will! Thank you!"

"Say, uhhhh... how many signatures you got on that thing so far?"

"Twenty-three!"

"Heeeeeey. That's not bad!"

"Come on, Pip!" a student piped up, brows furrowed.

"Yeah, we've got class!" a girl vole squeaked from behind the trio.

"All right, all right already! Sheesh!" Pip nipped back, rolling his eyes. "Hey. You keep gettin' those John Hancocks, okay?" he said, winking at Olivia.

"Um... Okay!"

And with that, she was off, not even bothering to grab an apple or a cracker, something that others cast glances at her for. Olivia passing up an opportunity to nab some food? She must mean business...

"She's so cute," Gadget mused, watching Olivia sprint around, on the hunt for more signatures, as she moved up a couple steps in line.

"Yeah," Dex said, arms folded. "She's a trip." Despite himself, he smiled after her. Little kids amused him sometimes, even if they could be a bit pesky underfoot.

As more students spilled into the cafeteria, fingers pointed, some quite shamelessly, in the direction of the food bar. Dex followed the invisible lines to a spot some paces behind them in line. But of course. They were all directed at the new teacher, Ronald Pinkus. The girls seemed particularly smitten, giggling and whispering and acting, in Dex's mind, perfectly idiotic. In fact, come to think of it, as he looked about the room, most of the girls were in deep conversation, their eyes trained on the same subject in the room, including Maisy's group. He shook his head. This was a university, not a middle school. Daftness came in all ages, he supposed.

"What?" Gadget queried, taking notice of the furrowed brow and the folded arms.

"Nothing," Dex muttered, shuffling forward a few paces as the line moved ahead. Both he and Gadget grabbed a plate of chocolate cake.

Gadget looked back at the new teacher and snickered.

"Don't let it get to you."

"She's just as bad as everyone else."

"Who? Maisy?"

"Yeah..."

Gadget shrugged.

"It's probably just a phase. Next week she'll fall for Basil again or someone."

Trays full, they set off to find a table. Tillie waved at them from a corner. They headed towards her.

"I dunno. I kinda...," Dex began, then stopped as they reached the table, sitting down with their trays. Tillie was already deep in her bowl of clam chowder.

"You what?" Gadget asked as she pulled her chair up.

"It's... whatever."

"What?"

Dex picked up his spoon, swirled it around in his own bowl of clam chowder, then set it down. Screw it. He grabbed his fork and dug into the chocolate cake instead.

"I miss when we used to hang out more."

"What are we talking about now?" Tillie asked, only half-interested.

No one said anything right away. Gadget picked at her sunflower seed salad for a minute, then spoke.

"You're her brother. She'll come back around eventually."

Dex shrugged again. He was about to shove another large piece of chocolate cake into his mouth when something lightly bumped his elbow. He turned and looked down. It was Olivia.

"Sign my petition?" she asked, her little whiskers upturned in a wide smile.

Dex couldn't help but mirror that infectious grin. In the distance, something... some _one_... caught his eye. It was Maisy. She frowned at him and shook her head. Dex frowned back. He took the clipboard and pen from Olivia's outstretched paws.

"You know what? Sure, kid. Baseball, right?"

"Uh-huh! We're going to have a mascot again, too! I hope..."

He handed her back the clipboard and pen and ruffled her hair, or, rather, the top of her tam-o-shanter.

"Break a leg, kid."

"Thank you!" she beamed, and off she went.

Dex smiled. In the background, Maisy shook her head. Dex snapped his fingers and winked, finger-gunning her. She rolled her eyes and went back to talking to her friends.

"Ugh. He's such a tease," complained Maisy to her company, twirling a strand of her long, golden hair as she sipped soda through a straw.

"He just cares about other people. Heck, I signed her petition," the black-furred mouse said. "How come you never hang out with your brother anymore? He's been lookin' kinda sad..."

"He's not even my real brother, Marvell. He's just my half-brother. You know that. Do we look like we're related?"

"But y'all used to be so close! What happened?"

Maisy shrugged.

"I dunno. We just... shifted."

"Don't you mean 'drifted'?" offered up a boy rat next to her.

"Whatever," Maisy shrugged. "Anyway, what do you guys think of him?" she smirked, jerking her head in the direction of Pinky still in line at the food bar.

All at the table turned their heads to look at him. He seemed to be picking out quite an odd assortment of foods: a hot dog, two cups of custard, and several pieces of cheese - just cheese. Every person that passed him a "hello" he greeted with a chipper "Good morning!", and his attitude towards the servers was polite and enthusiastic. Those around him couldn't seem to keep the smiles off their faces. Even the students generally known to be more reserved or stuck up couldn't help but throw him a curious glance. He was, for lack of a better term, "sunshine-y".

The boy rat popped several corn puffs in his mouth, his dry expression unchanged.

"He's kind of a twink, isn't he?"

Maisy slapped him on the shoulder playfully.

"He is not!"

"Dude. Come on..."

"He's not _that_ young," Marvell said, filing her nails as another of their group, a white mouse in a red shirt and with a yellow sash tied about his neck, came and sat down beside her, a cup full of fizzy raspberry water tottering dangerously on the edge of his tray. "He is kinda cute, though..."

The white mouse set down his tray carefully... but not carefully enough. _Slip_ went the cup, the mouse grabbing it before its contents could spill out entirely.

"AH!" Marvell yelped, jumping a little. "Stuart, that's the second time this week!"

"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry, Marvell!" the little mouse said, apologizing profusely as he skittered off towards the food bar. "I'll go get some napkins!"

"Awww, man. I just washed this," lamented Marvell, picking up a corner of her frilly blue frock, now tainted with fizz. "Well... At least it's just water. I can work with this, right? Looks kinda... sassy?"

The boy rat sat up, the better to look at Marvell's new fashion statement. The water had painted the rounded edges of one side of the dress. It could have passed for an interesting pattern if one squinted hard enough.

"Yeah, sure. You could pass it off as the new look," he suggested, smiling.

"Hm," Marvell replied, smirking as she sat back down, ringing out the dress edge.

Maisy didn't seem the least bit phased.

"I think he's kinda hot," she said, eyelashes fluttering as she sipped at her soda noisily.

"Hotter than Globetrotter?" sniggered the boy rat.

"Okay, Globetrotter's in his own league. Okay? I can never compete with that."

"Ummm...," Marvell mumbled, covering her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her embarrassed smile as she pointed to a figure behind Maisy's back.

"What?" Maisy asked, craning around slightly to look before swiftly turning back 'round in her seat again, shoulder hunched as she visibly blushed. "Oh my gosh," she whispered, burying her face in her hands.

The boy rat beside her could barely hide his laughter as Globetrotter walked past them, his nose deep in a very thick, very red, and very heavy-looking book. Had he actually been paying attention to their conversation Maisy might have had more reason to involuntarily add a bit of color to her cheeks. As it stood, however, he had not, and so continued towards the bar, oblivious to the fact that he was now fifth in line behind Pinky.

"That's astounding!" Pinky exclaimed, tray of food all but forgotten as he leaned across a glass awning in front of him, totally invested in Pip's latest story. "But... how were you able to keep the syrup layer from separating?"

"Oh, that's easy!" Pip replied, and on and on he went.

Two students ahead of Pinky peered back, interested. Others behind him simply chuckled... or tapped their foot impatiently. To Globetrotter it was complete gibberish. The culinary arts was a branch he rarely dabbled in unless absolutely necessary. _Although I do make a mean rigatoni_ , he thought to himself before shaking his head disgustedly. Where the heck did that come from? He was supposed to be engulfed in _Brownian Motion and Stochastic Calculus_ , but, as it stood, he found his attention inexplicably pulled towards a much... lesser subject. It was unfathomable how anyone could be so intrigued by such mundane topics as the properties of pancakes and how effectively one might prepare them, but the fanaticism with which his coworker now described it was almost... infectious. Nevertheless, Globetrotter frowned as he checked his watch. 12:18 PM. They were wasting precious time. _He_ was wasting his precious time.

"Will you move along already!" he called out, voice peppered with vexation. "I've got class in twenty-seven minutes!"

"Oh! So sorry!" Pinky called back, paws quickly grabbing hold of his tray once more. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Pip. Good luck with your pancakes!"

"Same to you, my good man!" Pip squeaked back. "What a pleasant fellow," he muttered to himself, smiling as Pinky walked off towards the refreshments bar, laden with food.

Globetrotter huffed and moved forward, grabbing a single bowl of fruit and a cup of cottage cheese on his way down. As he passed the pasta section, he paused, reached out a hesitant paw towards a plate of spaghetti, then quickly snapped it back, sighing and frowning sadly as he moved on to the refreshments, grabbing a banana on his way over and angrily slapping it down on his tray.

He stopped beside Pinky, who was humming and pouring himself some English Breakfast tea. Globetrotter huffed again. Flavored water - a poor man's excuse for caffeine. How anyone could drink that stuff was beyond him. He went for the coffee, pulled down the carafe lever... and grumbled. Empty.

"Is there any place in this building that can afford a mouse a decent cup of coffee?!" he whined, popping his empty cup back onto the others.

"Oh, that's a shame there, isn't it? Have you tried the tea, Brain?" Pinky offered helpfully, as he popped a lid on his own steaming cup.

"I refuse to bow my knee to such a lowbrow form of refreshment," Globetrotter bit back, picking up his tray. "And it's _Brian_ , you nincompoop."

"Well, how do you know you don't like it if you don't try it? Poit!" Pinky replied, unfazed by the retort.

"If I liked it I'd drink it. Good day to you."

And off he went, choosing a spot as far back in the room as possible, Pinky sadly watching him as he picked out a table devoid of occupants. Pinky looked back at the empty coffee cup, a light whimper escaping him as he stared at it dolefully. He turned back to focus on Globetrotter, who was once more lost in his big red book. Students who sat nearby gave him as wide of a berth as they could. Pinky's ears drooped. _What a sad little man_ , he thought. But it wasn't long before they perked back up again. Why, yes. Of course! Beaming, he set his tray down at an occupied table ("Watch this for me, will you?"), and rushed out of the cafeteria, leaving several students at the table to stare after him, puzzled.

 _Flip_. Globetrotter turned a page of his massive tome, popping a grape in his mouth and crunching down on it satisfactorily. _Flip, flip, flip_. He looked to his right. A girl mouse sat nearby, also buried in a book. A huge pink bow sat atop her head. He recognized her. She was one of his students. Teresa, her name was, if he recalled correctly. She was one of his brighter subjects, but struggled with the occasional mathematical theory. As it was, her nose practically brushed the pages of a book that Globetrotter recognized by sight alone: _Calculus_ by Gilbert Strang. Teresa sighed deeply, her unironed brow effectively relaying her frustration. She looked up... and jumped a little as she noticed Globetrotter staring at her, a light pink almost the exact color of her bow kissing her cheeks. Globetrotter slowly ducked back into his own texts, his peripheral vision catching Teresa shifting her seat over a notch in embarrassment.

A paw reached out to grab for his coffee, and he looked up when it touched nothing. Right. No coffee... Sighing, he popped another grape in his mouth, biting into it rather harder than necessary. Nearby, at another table, several students whispered.

"Did you find out what he teaches?" a girl vole asked, her question laced with ardor.

"Yup. He teaches Trozology," replied a male rat next to her, a pair of thick headphones hung about his neck.

"What the heck is that?" voiced another female rodent at their table, a cream-furred mouse decked out in purple - purple shirt; purple pants; purple socks; purple everything.

"I dunno," the rat shrugged. "Sounds kinda cool, though."

Globetrotter frowned. His ears twitched as tinkling laughter echoed from another table beside him.

"I knooooooow. He's so cute!" chuckled a rosy pink-eared mouse. She spoke in a barely-contained whisper along with the rest of her group, all of which sported bulky backpacks laid out on their table and decorated with all sorts of patches, stickers, and keychains. "I hope I can get a spot in his class!"

"I think he still has slots open!" one of her friends, a field rat, spoke up. "As far as I know, though, no one's actually signed up."

"Whyyyyyy? He's adorable! I'm gonna sign up just so I can stare at that face every day," a girl hamster said.

"What if you don't even like the class?" the second friend spoiled. "Maybe it's a dud. And we don't really have time in our schedules for another course..."

They all paused sadly and contemplatively at this. Then the first girl perked up.

"Well, I guess we'll get him all to ourselves then. If no one else likes the class then we'll stay just for the teacher!"

"Yeah, until every other girl does the same thing. You know we're not the only ones with the hots for him," the hamster said, taking a swig from her soda bottle.

"Well, then I guess we'll just have to fight for him," smiled the rat nonchalantly as she picked at her nails.

"Fight for him?!" yelped the other girls, covering their mouths at their loudness. "Oh my gosh. Seriously?!"

"Yeah! Anyone who comes up, we'll tell 'em to meet us at the park at two. No knives. Just like... nail clippers and hair curlers or something..."

"No no! Wait! We tell them to meet us at the baseball stadium!" offered the hamster, soda pop forgotten.

"You mean the one Olivia's petitioning?" the girl mouse asked. "It's not even built yet!"

"Yeah, but when it is we can tell them to meet there!"

"Winner gets dibs. They get to call first date," said the rat.

"And the loser has to pay for the dinner tab."

"Yeah!"

"Oh my gosh, you guys are so funny," the mouse chuckled.

They all laughed gaily.

Globetrotter's frown deepened, his mouth hanging open, another grape suspended in mid-air. Was Pinkus really... that popular? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the conversations now swimming about his consciousness, when yet another light exchange, a distant one this time, caught his ears.

"... thinking of actually dropping Globetrotter's class to take that Ronald guy's one. It's just as many credits. Probably way more fun."

Globetrotter gulped. He tried reading a sentence in his book, only to find that he kept gracing the same words over and over and over again. Blast it. He couldn't concentrate. He plopped the book down on the table and went to devouring his cottage cheese, all around him oblivious to the private war going on in his mind.

_Why do you care what they think? They're kids. They're idiots._

_Yes, and have you forgotten what happened when Basil came to the school two years ago? They went gah-gah over him, too._

_They didn't all abandon my class!_

_Nooooo, but half of them did. And Basil taught a required course at the time. Same as yours. They all went for his. He was much more interesting than you._

_That's neither here nor there! I'm still employed, aren't I? My class is still sought after._

_For now, and only because it's required. This new guy is significantly more popular. What if his class becomes required? What if it's worse than before? What if you become... old hat?  
_

"No!" Globetrotter yelled, out loud. Half the cafeteria paused to stare at him. He sunk in his seat a little. How embarrassing...

In mock resoluteness, he grabbed the book before him and went back to reading. But he was only truly pretending to read, the bright crimson covers a pathetic excuse for a hole in which the frightened mouse hid.

The truth was that, despite his behavior being anything but amicable, his notorious reputation in the school had garnered him something akin to a celebrity status over the years. The course was required, certainly, even though he wasn't the only teacher who taught it, but the struggle to survive the rigorous schedule and harsh grading system he doled out had become a flat out challenge to the students. How long could you last? Would you manage to nab the ever elusive 'A' during a semester? One pupil even became famous for handing out "I Survived Globetrotter's Class" t-shirts. They hated the teacher, but reveled in the challenge. It was something that Globetrotter became ironically comfortable with over the years. Being notorious was better than not being noticed at all. He couldn't abide the thought of being second fiddle; of falling into obscurity. He'd never had reason to be concerned about it for seventeen years, even during Basil's "reign", but now...? Now he had legitimate competition. In all his years at A.C.M.E. Arts & Sciences, he'd never known an instructor so heavily discussed, so quixotic, so beloved, even on the very first day of his employment. Pinky was new and different, in all the wrong ways to him, yet in all the right ways to the students. And it terrified him.

On a sudden whim, he whipped out a pen from his inside jacket pocket and wrote feverishly on a napkin in front of him. He didn't see the tall figure approach him.

"Hello, Brain!"

Globetrotter practically leapt out of his skin.

"AH! Wh-... You..! Don't... _do_ that!" he remarked, hastily stuffing the napkin and pen back into his coat pocket. He clutched at his heart, taking deep breaths as he rested his head in his palm.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Brain!" poor Pinky replied, resting a hand on Globetrotter's back comfortingly. Globetrotter shrugged it off, literally.

"And don't touch me! I just... h-had this... p-pressed," Globetrotter snapped, still catching his breath. "Who knows where your... paws have... been..."

"Oh, well, they haven't been far, Brain. They're always at my side! Ha-ha!"

Globetrotter cocked an eyebrow up at him, speechless. There was no way anyone could be this inordinately stupid.

"Mind if I join you?" Pinky asked, all innocence, that perpetually sunny smile never leaving his face.

"As I matter, of fact, I-"

"Oh, thank you!" Pinky initiated, grabbing a chair and pulling it close up to Globetrotter. _Too_ close for his comfort. Apparently, personal space was something of a foreign concept to this character. "You know, I don't usually eat in public. Don't want to miss The Brady Bunch, you know? Hm hm. But it's rather nice out here! I might come and sit with you more often."

 _Heaven forbid_ , Globetrotter thought, ears reddening.

"Would you kindly refrain from mentioning that abomination of a tv show in my presence? It sickens me. And I don't appreciate your unnaturally close proximity."

"Come again?" Pinky asked, cocking his head.

" _Move_ ," Globetrotter said, managing, with difficulty, to push Pinky and the chair he sat in over an inch.

"Well, you could have just asked," Pinky chuckled, still smiling. He complied, scooting his chair a couple more inches away from Brain.

"Thank you," bit Globetrotter, turning away from Pinky and directing his attention back to the giant tome in front of him. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like a little privacy."

"Oh, but, I came to give you something!" Pinky exclaimed, and Globetrotter, despite himself, shiftily looked over as the lanky mouse dug in his pants pocket for... something. "A-ha! Here ya' go!"

And he handed him... a teabag? No. Not a teabag. It was too big to be a teabag.

Globetrotter took it from him tentatively, two fingers holding it away from his body as if it might explode.

"What is it?"

"Chicory root! I just thought that, well, when you couldn't find any coffee it reminded me of my mum. She used to be a big coffee drinker, too. She stopped recently, but she still missed the taste. Chicory root tastes a lot like coffee, only better! M-Maybe you'd like it, too?" Pinky offered helpfully, a tinge of shyness peppering his smile.

Globetrotter looked up at Pinky, nonplussed... and a wee bit confused. No one ever gave him anything; not unless he directly asked for it. To be fair, no one was ever bold enough to even attempt to show him much kindness, seeing as the result was often times a sharp reply and a sinister glare. This newcomer obviously hadn't learned the rules yet.

"Teachers... don't usually give me gifts," Globetrotter admitted. "Not unless I ask for them." Nevertheless, he pocketed the chicory root.

"Perhaps that's because you don't ask nicely, Brain? People give you lots of things when you're nice to them!"

It wasn't so much the statement itself, but the boldness of its deliverance that took Globetrotter aback.

"Sooooo... you're saying... I should be nice... to get rewards?"

"Oh, no, Brain! That would be taking advantage! You should be nice to people, 'cause, well, it's nice! And then they're nice to you! Don't you like making people happy?"

"No."

"Not even a little bit?"

"No one has ever given me reason to."

"Well, maybe they would if you showed them a little smile!"

And he actually stuck two fingers up against Globetrotter's cheeks, pushing up on each side in an attempt to draw something close to a grin on his drooping face.

"Ohhhhhhh. There's that smile, Brain!"

" _Would you get off_?!" Globetrotter blasted, waving his arms around as he flung Pinky off of him. "I told you not to touch me!"

His cheeks and ears burned red at the sound of laughter nearby. Some of the students had been watching and were now drowning in a hushed fit of giggles. Naturally...

"You dimwit. If you're still sitting in that chair in five seconds, I shall personally have to harm you," threatened Globetrotter, cheeks reddening worse than ever as his paws balled into fists.

"Do I get a prize if I leave in four?" Pinky smirked.

" _One..._ "

"Or maybe I'll get one if I stay longer! It pays to be persistent sometimes, Brain."

" _Two..._ "

"You know, you're rather funny when your ears turn red. Nya-ha-ha!"

" _FOUR..._!"

"Going, Brain!"

And with that, he was off, picking his food up off his tray to take back to his room, giggling to himself and humming, of all things, "Camptown Races" as he headed for the doors. One of the teachers, a Dr. Dawson, smiled at Pinky as he walked past him. And Dr. Dawson... _Oh, have mercy._ Dr. Dawson started singing along with him.

"I say. I do recognize that tune, young man!" Dawson said, grinning warmly. "Camptown ladies sing this song! Doo-dah! Doo-dah!"

"Camptown race-track five miles long! Oh, doo-da day!" Pinky sung back, beaming.

Others joined in. Still others. Soon, almost the entire cafeteria, minus Globetrotter and a few stragglers, was decked out in song.

"Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day! Bet my money on the bob-tailed nag! Somebody bet on the bay!"

And with that, everyone burst out into hearty laughter, Pinky's wail the loudest of all. He and Dr. Dawson exchanged a friendly word or two, shook hands, and with that, Pinky departed, leaving a trail of chuckles behind.

Globetrotter blinked, his mouth hanging slightly open again. Whatever had happened was... terrifying. This bloke didn't just have an effect on the students, but on the whole school. Even the teachers were getting involved! It was official. This needed to end. He had to be stopped...

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Pinky was still humming "Camptown Races" all the way back to his classroom. He'd just reached the door when a little someone came pitter-pattering down the hallway after him.

"Mr. Pinky! Mr. Pinky!" she called, hat bobbing wildly up and down on her ruffled, furry head.

"Hello, Olivia!" Pinky said, grinning from ear to ear.

"That was amazing!" she gasped, panting. "Mrs. Judson said she could hear you from the nurses' office. She was singing with you!"

They both giggled at this.

"Well, tell Mrs. Judson that Mr. Pinky is glad she enjoyed the song!" Pinky said.

"Oh, I will! I will! By the way, umm... do you have any more classes planned?" Olivia asked, tucking her paws behind her and rocking back and forth, the pink cheeks only complementing her humble posture. She looked awfully cute.

"Hmmmmm. Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Is that a Friday?"

"I think so."

"Yes! Yes, I will!"

"2:00 PM sharp tomorrow, little lady," Pinky said, winking at her.

"2:00 PM sharp, Mr. Pinky!" Olivia repeated, saluting him. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

And off she trotted.

"Oh! Olivia!" Pinky called.

Olivia stopped and turned around, her mouth in a curious little 'o' shape. Pulling a hand out of his pocket, Pinky tossed her a bag of crisps. She caught it with a trained paw.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, popping open the bag and tossing a chip in her mouth as she ran off and around a corner.

" _Olivia!_ " Pinky called again, a hand to his mouth.

"Hm?" she queried, popping her head around the corner.

"How many signatures?!"

"Thirty-seven!"

"Woo-hoo!"

"Woo woo!" she called back, before flying off once more.

Pinky smiled, giggling to himself, as he turned the door handle and disappeared inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Marvell is an original character created by a friend of mine who goes by the cognomen of "Geeky". You can find her lovely art and cute character on Twitter at: GeekyBlackGirl
> 
> \- Flip phones weren't exactly in wide use in '93, but I cheated here for convenience's sake and story purposes.
> 
> \- The book that Teresa was reading, as well as the book Globetrotter carried around with him, are actual published works. Stochastic calculus is, apparently, a very advanced form of the subject. Brain considers it light reading.
> 
> \- Your typical volcano science project is partially composed of baking soda, which, in turn, is made up of sodium bicarbonate. The whole thing is a reference to Globetrotter's explosive personality, and how he views the current predicament as such: one big problem on the verge of erupting and destroying his position if he doesn't do something... and fast.
> 
> \- Globetrotter going for the cottage cheese and fruit, while sadly eschewing the pasta, is due to the fact that, in this story, he has terrible bowel and diarrhea issues. He's been told by his doctor to avoid certain foods, but finds this... a struggle at times. I dunno why I decided to give him this problem, other than the fact that it amuses me. Lol.
> 
> \- Olivia is a lot of fun to write. :)


	4. Fateful Trips

**September 17th, 1993 - 6:03 AM**

A spillage of numbers, symbols, and complicated algorithms flowed across the outdated monitor, a furious _tap, tap, tapping_ of a keyboard a musical accompaniment to the madness. In the background, something beeped steadily, one high-pitched ding after another knocking at the air every two seconds. Several bottles and beakers hung suspended by their necks in a wooden tray off to the side, their liquid contents bubbling and boiling incessantly, all of them different colors of the rainbow - cinnamon, emerald, lilac, and azure. Rows and rows of books, large dusty tomes neighbors with fresh dainty novels, stood side-by-side within the innards of several tall, mahogany shelves set against the back wall. Still more shelves, steel-coated instead, lay strewn throughout the room, these ones encasing not just books, but various scientific tools, as well as cups of pens and pencils, tape, notebooks, and an assortment of other things. The entire room was dark and foreboding, the occasional dim ceiling light and desk lamp adding limited warmth to the place, with the two computer monitors shedding their own ghostly glow about the room. Piles of notes and here and there a forgotten and empty (and sometimes half-full...) coffee mug lay about on the computer desks, and there were probably more calculators - all different shapes, sizes, and models - tossed about than was necessary. It was an organized mess.

But it was _his_ organized mess.

Globetrotter scribbled something down on a yellow notepad to his left, his right paw firmly planted on a computer mouse to his right. Light from the monitor reflected off his half-moon glasses, which tottered dangerously close to the edge of his nose. He swiftly pushed them back up onto the bridge.

_Tap, tap, tap..._

More typing. More note-taking.

"Yes...," he whispered to himself, the beginnings of a grin climbing up onto his face. " _Yes!_ "

He slammed a finger down onto the 'Enter' key, and a train of calculations ran across an invisible track on the monitor, finally ending in a result that was much to his satisfaction. Globetrotter smirked deviously.

"Heh heh heh. Ohhhh, my friend. Are you in for a treat."

Just then, his eyes went wide, ears drooping suddenly.

"Uggggh," he groaned, setting down his glasses as he ran towards a heavy steel door, punched in a code on a panel set in the wall, and flew out of the room as the door slid open. When it closed behind him, it melded into the wall so well that no one would be able to tell one way or another that a secret laboratory lay hidden on the other side.

Down a long, dimly-lit hallway he ran, his shoes clapping loudly against the smooth concrete floor, 'til he reached an elevator. He slammed his paw on the only button set in the wall - UP.

"Come on, come on...," he muttered, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He allowed himself this - this undignified form of behavior, rocking back and forth like an absolute child. It was something he'd never succumb to in public, but here there was no one to see, not even any cameras. He'd shut them off long ago, knowing full well that no one would ever bother to monitor the basement. No one but him ever graced this area anymore.

After a full half a minute, the elevator finally descended.

 _Ding_.

Globetrotter bolted into it as the doors opened, punching the 'Floor 1' button with unbridled voracity as he clutched at a spot near his crotch, face scrunched in discomfort. His head hung, an extended paw resting against the elevator wall as it ascended. He groaned. This was most undignified.

No sooner had the doors laid entrance to the first floor than Globetrotter shot out of the elevator like a bullet, practically skidding into the men's bathroom that, thankfully, was literally right across from the elevator. It was a shoddy design, but it worked well for him.

He practically knocked the door off its hinges as he barged inside, taking an extra two seconds to select the furthest stall from the entrance as he ran in, slammed the door shut, shakily undid his belt, and slammed his butt resolutely down on the toilet... and released.

He said a silent prayer of thanks that no one was in the bathroom to hear the sounds reverberating off the walls. It was embarrassing enough to deal with bowel issues, but for explosive diarrhea to come along with it every now and again was the icing on the expired cake. Most in the university knew about his issues. How could he avoid it? The students expected him to take a sudden pause during his sessions every once in a while. If anything, they welcomed it; less Globetrotter meant more time to goof around and breath without fear of being told off or sent to detention. And he'd learned to simply... deal with it. Rarely did the whispers come, and there was always at least _one_ veteran student in his class to inform the newer sets about his strange, frequent disappearances. But it still bothered him a little; made him feel weak. Bested by his own bowels. Ridiculous.

Globetrotter breathed a sigh of relief as he let the last of it out, quickly regretting his next deep intake of air as he slapped a hand across his nose and mouth in disgust. Ugh. That was a smell that would linger.

Finishing up, he flushed the toilet (it actually went down this time, thank God...), washed his paws, and exited the bathroom, grateful that he didn't meet anyone on the floor on his way back to the elevator. Not that he would. Early morning wasn't exactly a time for many staff and students to be active. Nevertheless, he checked his watch as he shuffled down the hallway. 6:17 AM. Class would be starting in just a little over an hour. Perhaps he should abandon his private endeavors until a later time? He fixed to head to the second floor until he remembered he'd left his glasses in the lab. Groaning, he stepped into the elevator, pressed 'B', and headed back down to the laboratory.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**1:54 PM**

The day passed without much deviation or interruption in anyone's schedule, save for a light altercation in which someone accidentally set fire to the kitchen microwave... somehow. Olivia was still collecting signatures on her excursions down the hallways and into the cafeteria during lunch time. She even took to staking a spot outside some of the classrooms when she knew a session was about to end, clipboard in hand and pen out, ready to attack any unsuspecting student or teacher. It annoyed some, but most took it as an opportunity to amuse the little mouse. Even the stiffest of teachers found it hard to dislike Olivia, save for Globetrotter. Even Basil was starting to warm up to her, especially after she complimented him on his magnificent violin playing, although he still wouldn't sign her petition.

"How many signatures do you have, Olivia?" Mrs. Brisby asked that afternoon, tossing the girl mouse a light smile as she stepped into her classroom, lunch bag in hand and carrying bag slung over her shoulder. Brisby always brought her own food.

"Fifty-four!" piped the girl, adjusting her tam-o-shanter as it fell down over her eyes. "And Mr. Pinky said that if I get to two hundred, we can show it to the principal and get a baseball stadium!"

"Hm. Is that so?" Brisby asked, still smiling as she set her bags down on the cherrywood table and unloaded several books onto it.

"Mmhm! Well... _Maybe_. He has to approve it first. That's what Mr. Pinky said."

"Well. I don't think that will be too hard. All you have to do is smile at him," Mrs. Brisby said, pinching Olivia's cheek. Olivia giggled. "Here: Something for Mr. Pinky." And she handed her a bright, reddish-green apple. "Just make sure to tell him Brisby sent it. I'm experimenting with a different species in my garden and would like some opinions. Oh, and here's one for you, too."

"Thank you!" Olivia said, pocketing both apples, one on each side of her coat. "Bye!"

"Bye bye now!" Mrs. Brisby said cheerily, waving at her.

Olivia skipped with delight down the hallway, for once not calling out for signatures. It was almost 2:00 PM and she had a very important appointment to catch. As she cantered down the hall, waving to Dr. Dawson as he passed by, _not_ waving to Mr. Globetrotter as he passed by, she hummed a little tune, pondering what wonders might await her in Mr. Pinky's class this time.

_I wonder if he'll talk about the planets? Or if we'll go on a mystery adventure! Maybe we'll build a roller coaster in the classroom... or fly to the moon! Oh, I do hope he has a cooking show this time. That would be lovely._

Her head was so full of thoughts that it completely clouded her vision - she didn't even see Mr. Pinky coming right towards her...

"Oof!" they both exhaled, shaking their heads and chuckling as they recognized whom they'd bumped into.

"Oh! Olivia!"

"Hello, Mr. Pinky!"

"Say, um, do you know how to get to my room?" Pinky asked, picking up a little case that he'd dropped. It looked like an old-fashioned medical bag. "I came into the school from a different side this time and got a little turned around! Heh heh."

"You mean you... don't know where your own classroom is?" Olivia asked.

"Well, it's a big school! Even teachers get lost sometimes!" At this, he bent down to Olivia's level, cupping a paw against his mouth as he continued in a whisper. "But don't tell them that. I think they'd be offended!"

Olivia giggled.

"Come on. I'll show you to your room, oh lost Mr. Pinky. Oh. And this is for you."

She handed him one of the apples Mrs. Brisby had handed her, taking a bite out of the other for herself.

"Why, thank you!" Pinky said, soaking his teeth into it happily.

And with that, they headed off, Olivia leading the way and occasionally throwing out a factoid here or there.

"I know every hallway in the school!" she said happily. "That way goes down to Bernard and Bianca's class." They climbed down a flight of stairs to land on the second floor, passing more hallways as they continued on. "And that one hallway goes all the way down to the nurse's office. That's where Mrs. Judson and I are! Oh, and that's the hallway that goes to the principal's office. But don't go down there. He's mean..."

Pinky took note of all of this in his head; or, at least, he tried to. Facts tended to flit in and out of his inner cavity a lot more often than he liked to admit, unless it was something he considered to be very important. He tried his best to tie down all of what Olivia was telling him to a particularly heavy, imaginary rock. Remembering who was who in the school was, indeed, rather integral information. What if he ever wanted to give Mr. Bernard and Mrs. Bianca a gift, but forgot their names or where they set up shop? What if Olivia needed someone to go with her to talk to the principal about looking over their petition? Even more important, what if a student in his class got hurt and he needed to alert the nurse? Very important, indeed.

 _Please, don't forget this time, okay?_ Pinky thought to himself privately. _Please..._ He couldn't afford to. Not again...

They ran into Basil as they turned a corner. The faintest hint of a smile flashed across his face as he saw Olivia.

"Good morning, Mr. Basil!" Olivia piped up, stopping to greet him.

"Hello, Ms. Flangerhanger," he replied, riffling through a sheet of very important looking papers.

Olivia chuckled and shook her head. He could never get her name right.

"It's Flaversham, Mr. Basil."

"Mmhm," he mumbled, not looking at her. "I take it you're on your way to the nurse's office?"

"Actually, I'm helping Mr. Pinky find his class."

Olivia motioned for Basil to bend down to her level, which he obliged to, albeit reluctantly.

"He tends to get lost," she whispered into his ear.

"Is that so?" Basil queried, standing up straight again to take a closer look at this Mr... "Pinky, was it? You're... new here, are you not?" he asked, licking a thumb before riffling through his papers again.

"That's me!" Pinky acknowledged cheerily. "And Olivia's being such a help."

"Is she still going on about that ghastly petition?" Basil asked, although not entirely unkindly; it was almost playful.

"Yes! Will you sign it?" Olivia asked, not at all perturbed by Basil's mock reply, as she held the petition high up the air towards Basil's face, which, due to her height, wasn't very high at all. Even on her tippie toes she barely reached his chest.

Basil looked over at her and actually smirked.

"No," he said, giving a rather toothy, sarcastic grin before wandering off. "Good day to you both."

"Hm. He's a little stuck up, isn't he?" Pinky asked, staring after Basil curiously as he disappeared around the corner.

"Oh, don't mind Mr. Basil. He's quite nice when you get to know him. Come on! Let's go find your class room. We're late!"

And with that, Olivia took hold of Pinky's hand and led him onward down the hallway.

They passed Globetrotter as they reached the bathrooms. Pinky wrinkled his nose a little as the door swung shut behind the disgruntled teacher. Great swollen socks. It smelled as if something had _died_ in there. Nevertheless, Pinky smiled and waved as he stomped by.

"Afternoon, Brain!"

Globetrotter shot him a nasty look, adjusting his pants and wincing as he did so. Pinky cocked an eyebrow in concern.

"Let's go," Olivia said in a hushed tone, pulling Pinky forward and past the restrooms.

Not ten seconds later, they reached his classroom. They were late. Not that it mattered. In truth, no one had yet signed up for Pinky's class, even though it had been a little over a week since he'd set up shop. Although many in the school talked about looking into the Trozology course, none had actually committed. Besides a majority of the pupils having very busy schedules that didn't allow for much free time, the main excuse, besides the nature of the class being rather oblivious, was concern that it would disappoint. It wouldn't be the first time a new teacher had come to town, toting with them the promise of a particularly interesting course, only for it to fall flat on its face and disappear or fade into obscurity a year later. "Someone," the students said, "has to take the plunge - take one for the team - and try Mr. Pinkus's class out to see if it's legit." Everyone was pushed to do so; henceforth, no one did. Only Olivia came to call now and again, and whenever she happened upon him he was either watching television, acting out some wild and wacky skit (which, unfortunately, she always caught the tail end of), or, on one rare occasion, sitting at his desk reading and staring at his family portrait longingly. Olivia just assumed that she always missed his busy class times. How could someone so fun not have any students?

"Hmm. Are all your students late, Mr. Pinky?" Olivia asked, looking up at him curiously as he opened the door to... an empty classroom.

"Hm? Oh no! No, not at all. I just... don't have any students yet! Ha-ha. You're the first, actually," Pinky said, as he set his medical bag down on the desk and pulled out several items: a can of tuna, a HUGE block of cheese wrapped in non-stick parchment paper, a notepad, a couple of pens, and... a Gilligan's Island tape. "Got tired of the old ones," he winked at Olivia, answering her silent question as he set the tape down amongst his snacks and office supplies.

"Are you going to watch it?" Olivia asked, curious eyes barely able to see over the top of Pinky's desk, her little paws stretching to grasp at its edges.

"We _caaaaaaaaan_ ," Pinky teased. "But only if you'll share this cheese with me!"

Olivia gasped.

"Really?!"

Five minutes later saw them both sitting on hard plastic chairs in front of the wheel-in tv, munching on cheese and occasionally busting out in a fit of laughter at some silly antic that one of the cast members pulled. Olivia had already decided that this was her all time favorite show, even though she'd barely seen one episode.

"Mr. Pinky? Why don't you have any students?" she asked rather randomly during a pause in the show.

"I suppose it's because no one's signed up yet!" Pinky said, all optimism.

"Ohhhh. When will they sign up, do you think?"

"I don't know, actually. But they'll come!"

Olivia smiled. He seemed so certain that she couldn't help but believe him. She took another bite out of her American Cheddar.

"I'm gonna tell all my friends about your class," she mumbled thickly through a huge mouthful of cheese. "Then everybody will come, and they'll all sign up!"

"Awwww. Thank you, Olivia!" Pinky smiled, giving her a snug side hug. "I'd like that very much!"

"Hee hee. You've got crumbs all over your cheek, Mr. Pinky," Olivia chuckled, reaching up to brush the wayward crumbs off the sides of his mouth. He smiled at her. She smiled back. Without saying anything more, she hugged him back, both of them munching on cheese as they giggled and guffawed at the rest of the show.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**September 21st, 1993 - 5:32 PM**

Olivia was true to her word. Anyone who was anyone was invited to enroll in Pinky's class. In Olivia's eyes, that included her best friends, her parents, a few of her favorite teachers and other staff at the school, and Mrs. Judson. All invitations were turned down; all but three.

As it happened, Mrs. Brisby was close neighbors with Olivia, her father, and Mrs. Judson. This meant that Olivia had friends her age to play with: Timothy and Cynthia, to be exact, two of Brisby's four children. Cynthia was a little younger than her brother or Olivia, by about three years, but wherever Timothy went she had to follow, and so Olivia got two attendees for the price of one. The third was Evinrude, a mute dragonfly and friend of Bernard and Bianca. He was something of a loner, but took to scouting about the city and popping in on activities that interested him. Like Olivia, he sometimes reported news, sending letters from one neighbor to another in their little district and occasionally pausing to watch the kids at play. He pretended not to care, but Olivia secretly liked to think that he cared very much and kept an eye on them on purpose, as a sort of guardian. So when he happened to flit by as Olivia passed out verbal invitations to Timothy and Cynthia, she invited him, too.

 _No can do_ , Evinrude might have said, shaking his head. He flattened one little outstretched hand, palm down, and made a waving motion with the other in front of it.

"Busy?" Olivia asked, hands on her hips. "But you're always busy!"

"You should come, Evinrude," Timothy agreed in his delicate voice, little Cynthia peeking out shyly from behind him. "Might be fun."

The little dragonfly rolled his eyes at them.

"We're all going to his class tomorrow. I'm sure he'd love it if you came!" Olivia said, handing Evinrude a small card, which he accepted.

He cocked an eyebrow at the card, then looked back at Olivia, then at the card again. She'd actually taken the time out of her day to hand-make little business-card-sized invitations for everyone. Impressive. The card he was handed read thus:

**_New Class!_ **   
**_with teacher Pinky!_ **

**_ACME Arts and Scienses_ **   
**_Berbank, Californeea 90095_ **

**_2:00 Wendsday, September 22_ **

Evinrude cocked an eyebrow at Olivia again. She was staring at him expectantly.

"And you'd better not be late, hmm?" she teased, trying to sound at least a little bit serious.

Evinrude shook his head, looking off into the distance.

"He's going to have _snaaaaaaaacks_ ," sung Olivia, batting her eyes at him pleadingly.

At this, Evinrude looked back at her in interest. If there was one thing they found equal footing on, besides being delivery hands of course, it was a fondness for food. He bopped his head lightly here and there, indicating that maybe, just maybe, he'd show up.

"Excellent! I'll see you tomorrow!" Olivia beamed, leaving Evinrude to shake his head one last time before flying off, card still in hand.

"Ohhhh, I don't think he'll there...," doubted Cynthia in her tiny little voice, finally emerging from behind her brother's back to stare at Evinrude as he flew off into the sunset.

"He will. You'll see," Olivia said, confident as anything as she sat down in the street to help Timothy assemble a small bug-catching kit.

"He'll eat all the food," Timothy pointed out, snapping two parts of the kit together.

Olivia drew her attention away from the bug kit to whip out a bright red pencil and piece of paper from her pocket, which she slapped down on the ground and began scribbling away on furiously.

"I know. That's okay. I just want him to spread the word."

"The word?"

"Mmhm. When he sees how fun Mr. Pinky's class is, he'll report it to everyone in town!" she said, finishing up her drawing and whipping it up in front of her face in a flourish to show it to Timothy. Embedded in the paper lay a very crude child's drawing of Pinky, stick-figure-like, his paws outstretched as he shouted 'Yay!' amidst scores of little star-like fireworks. "And then he'll always have a full classroom!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**September 22nd, 1993 - 2:10 PM**

Two o'clock came swift and sharp at Acme Arts and Sciences, but not swiftly enough for the kids. Olivia, Timothy, and Cynthia all waited against Pinky's classroom door, looking a little anxious. Olivia had managed to get a pass for her friends to enter the school for a couple of hours, thanks to Mrs. Judson, but it still felt a little awkward. Cynthia, being only four years old in mouse years, got bored easily, and Timothy was running out of ways to keep her occupied. They hadn't brought any puzzles or coloring books or board games, Olivia insisting that they wouldn't need them; Pinky's classes provided enough entertainment on their own. But it was 2:10 and he still hadn't shown up yet. Had she gotten the day wrong...?

Timothy picked carefully at a loose thread on his jeans. He'd need to sow that later.

"He's taking a while, isn't he?" he asked, looking tired.

"He probably got lost in the school again...," Olivia offered, ears drooping under her fat tam-o-shanter.

Timothy had managed to occupy Cynthia with a game of Jacks he'd brought, but he knew that it would only entertain her for so long. Already, she was starting to get bored of the bouncing ball, which kept rolling off to a far part of the hallway where either she or one of the others had to go up and get it.

A minute passed.

"Maybe we came on the wrong day," Timothy offered, trying to sound sympathetic despite his fatigue.

Olivia said nothing.

Five more minutes tip-toed by, one slow step at a time. Olivia pulled her legs up closer to her chest despite the heat. Were the hallways always this hot..? Maybe someone left the air on too long...

Timothy had shuffled a little, and was looking suspiciously as if he was about to get up and leave, when suddenly, from around the corner, Mr. Ronald Pinkus came flying, rolls of posters tucked up under his arms and sweat flying from his brow. It was unfortunate that the Jack ball rolled out of Cynthia's grasp right at that moment. It was even more unfortunate that it was Pinky's foot that found it.

"Sorry, kids, I- ARGGHHHHHH!"

Down he went... _ZIP!_ ... crashing to the floor in a heap, posters flying everywhere.

"Are you all right, Mr. Pinky?!" Olivia asked, flying up onto her feet and rushing to Pinky's side. Timothy and Cynthia also stood, the older brother taking the initiative as he stepped up to peer at Mr. Pinky, a little concerned.

Pinky groaned, eyes rolling. After a few seconds, he propped himself up tenderly, shaking his head to rid himself of the little brie cheeses now dancing around him. Olivia held his head gently as Pinky rubbed at his neck.

"That looked nasty," Timothy said. "You need an ice pack?"

"You keep an ice pack in your backpack?" Olivia asked.

"No. But my Mum probably would make me if I could..."

"I'm all right! Ha-ha. Just broke a bone is all," Pinky grimaced, trying to look cheerful.

"You broke a bone?!" Olivia exclaimed.

"Ohhhhhh...," seconded Cynthia, hiding behind her brother again.

Pinky pulled out from under him something wrapped in a white napkin. Opening it up, he dangled from his fingers a broken chicken wing.

"Ohhhhh... you killed the chicken!" gasped Cynthia, covering her eyes.

"My lunch. Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Chicken Wing. I'll make it up to you, I promise!" Pinky lamented.

"Sorry about your lunch, Mr. Pinky," Olivia said remorsefully, head hanging.

"It's all right, Olivia. No harm done," Pinky assured her, lifting up her chin and giving her an encouraging smile. She couldn't help but smile back as Pinky sat up proper and gathered up his things, the kids helping him. "Now, who are these lovely people?"

"This is Timothy, and that's Cynthia. She's his little sister," Olivia pointed out helpfully, picking some of the dropped posters up off the floor.

"Nice to meet you!" Pinky said cheerily, shaking Timothy's hand and offering a paw to Cynthia, who nervously declined.

"Nice to meet you, Sir," Timothy replied, perhaps a bit too opulently. "Olivia says you're quite the showman."

"Well, she would know," Pinky chuckled, taking the remaining posters from Olivia with a nod of thanks. "And there's more where that came from!"

He opened the door to his classroom, flicking the light on as he entered. A bulb popped out as Olivia stepped in after him. Pinky looked up at it curiously.

"Hm. Will have to get that fixed then," he said, setting his things down on the table.

Timothy slowly tip-toed inside, taking in the very plain sights and the very unusual smells (Gouda, some sort of leathery cologne, and was that... radish?), with Cynthia following behind him at a cautious pace. She didn't much care for the radish smell and wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant scent. Timothy, however, drank it all in. He rather thought it was an interesting blend of eclectic aromas and savored every one, eyes closed as he deeply inhaled, the whisper of a smile on his lips.

"What are we doing today, Mr. Pinky?" Olivia asked, already by his side as she eagerly looked up into his face.

"Well, Miss Olivia, we are going to go on an adventure!" he said, unraveling one of the big, thick posters with a flourish.

Olivia gasped excitedly, and Timothy's ears flicked as he looked over at Pinky, intrigued.

"What kind of an adventure?" asked Timothy.

"You'll seeeeeee!" Pinky winked. "Help me put these posters up, everyone!"

And so they each grabbed a poster, save for Cynthia. She still wasn't quite ready to make friends yet. Everyone picked a random portion of wall upon which to paste their sizeable poster, but it became apparent, after a few failed attempts to open up what kept wanting to roll back closed, that something was missing.

"Mr. Pinky?" Olivia mumbled, struggling a little as a large roll of poster traveled down the wall she was attempting to lay it onto and bumped into her face, ruffling her whiskers. She sneezed. Even the posters had a smell: tomato, with a hint of garlic. "Aren't we supposed to have something to keep the posters up on the wall?"

"I concur," groaned Timothy, having just as bad of a time as Cynthia. He eventually gave up, letting the poster fall... right onto his little sister. She squeaked. "Oh. Sorry, Cynthia," he apologized, plucking it off of her as she shook her head of the smell, although this one she rather liked.

"Ohhhhhhhh. That's what I was forgetting!" Pinky exclaimed, chuckling to himself. "Just a moment!"

And he ran back to his medical bag, dug around in it, and pulled out a small clear case filled with push-pins. He set it down on a nearby chair, the better for smaller mousies to reach.

"Here ya' go!" he offered, taking a few in his paw and returning to his poster.

The kids ran over to take a look. There were many push-pins, all different colors of the rainbow: blue, purple, yellow, green, pink, white, and more. Olivia thought they were quite pretty to look at. Even Cynthia couldn't help but step forward to take a closer look at the dazzling arrangement.

"Ooooo. Pretty!" she remarked, stretching out a paw to grab a handful.

"Hold up, Cynthia," Timothy said, throwing out an arm. "Those are sharp on the end. You don't want to get hurt."

Cynthia's ears drooped at this.

"Here. I'll pick four out for you. Hold out your paw. Come on."

Cynthia did as she was told. Timothy picked out and set gently in her hand four differently colored push-pins - violet, turquoise, sunshine-y yellow, and ivory. The youngest mouse's eyes went wide.

"Be careful with them, okay?"

"Okay," Cynthia mumbled, only partially listening. They were all so pretty. She wanted the whole case.

Push-pins in hand, the quartet found it much easier to hang up the posters. Not all stood at the same height, as the kids had to use chairs to get them at least high enough that the poster bottoms wouldn't lay out on the floor, but Pinky didn't seem to mind. He was just happy to have company, as were the kids. They talked about their posters as they put them up, and after fifteen minutes of pushing and pinning, they could admire their work.

Sixteen posters wrapped around the classroom, painting the walls with numerous vacation spots, national landmarks, and beautiful landscapes. Some featured tall waterfalls splashing down into azure blue pools below; others seemed lost in a lush rainforest decorated with vibrantly-patterned butterflies; but most of them highlighted the beach. There were posters of alluring islands, sandy California backdrops, and palm trees set against brilliant sunsets. It was enough to make anyone want to jump into one of those appealing vistas right then and there and float away - get lost in paradise.

"What now, Mr. Pinky?" Olivia asked, voice drowning in excitement and anticipation. Whatever came next, it had to be good.

"Nooooooow," prefaced Pinky, flashing his toothy grin, "We get out the boat!"

And from a far corner of the room, he pulled a large cardboard box; just big enough for all four of them to sit rather uncomfortably in. Pinky initiated, setting the box in front of the desk and jumping inside of it.

"Come on, everyone!" he encouraged, motioning them with a hand to join him.

"Woo! Yes!" Olivia exclaimed, hopping in and sitting down between Pinky's legs without a second thought. "Come on, guys!" she called to the others.

Timothy looked a little suspicious. He walked all the way around the box, inspecting it inside and out, before standing in front of it, arms folded, and tossing a very questioning glance indeed at the mice.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely!" Pinky confirmed. "Come on! You're gonna miss all the fun!"

"Yeah, come on, Timothy! It won't hurt," Olivia reassured him with a helpful smile.

"I'm not scared," Timothy admitted, squishing in to sit, a little cramped, in front of Olivia as he said it.

Only Cynthia remained. Timothy reached out both arms for her.

"Come on, silly," he invited, but she remained suspicious. Two little paws crawled up over the edge as she took a peek inside.

"Is it going to hurt?" she asked.

"Olivia just said it wouldn't, so come on," prodded Timothy again, and this time she slipped into his arms, taking a spot on his lap as she looked around, a bit nervous.

"All right, kids. You ready?" Pinky asked.

"Ready!" Olivia replied.

"Ready... I think." Timothy responded.

Cynthia said nothing.

"Alllll right. Start rowing!" Pinky commanded, and he began rowing the make-shift "boat" with imaginary oars, Olivia following suit, with Timothy hesitantly joining in a few seconds later. Cynthia simply sat there on her big brother's lap, giggling a little as she watched them all row.

"Okay. Now, _clooooooose_ your eyes...," Pinky instructed. They all obeyed. Well, almost all... " _Aaaaaand_... OPEN THEM!"

They did as he was told... and _GASPED_.

No longer were they on the floor of an abandoned school classroom, sitting in a cardboard box surrounded by promises of tropical get-a-ways painting the walls. They were actually on the ocean, nestled inside a little white dinghy boat, and encompassed about by skies of deep blue, orange, and pink, with picturesque clouds completing the image. To their port and starboard sides, dolphins leapt gaily along with them, and in the distance, straight ahead of them, lay a magnificent island, decorated elaborately with all manner of palm trees, and promising a very grand adventure indeed.

Olivia clapped and cheered, bouncing up and down in her seat in pure ecstasy.

"I told you! I told you! He's a magician!" Olivia told Timothy with great exuberance, Pinky chuckling behind her as he continued rowing.

Timothy's mouth was agape in pure wonderment, his eyes as wide as saucers. _How... was this possible?_ He said nothing as he stared all about him, head turning this way and that to take in the sights, sounds, and smells surrounding him, bombarding his senses, practically lifting him off his feet.

"Wow...," he finally breathed out, a smile crawling up his face. "This is so high..."

"Come again..?" Pinky asked, his ears dropping alarmingly as he slowed down his rowing to stare concernedly at the boy.

"Huh?"

"This is so... what?"

"Oh. High. Like... way up high? Like when you're up at the top of a tall tree and feel like you're flying? It's cool."

Pinky chuckled. He couldn't help it.

"You might want to use a different word when around adults there. Just sayin'."

Timothy cocked an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything against it. He simply shrugged.

Cynthia was the only one of the set who hadn't yet found the wonderment in the situation. As far as she could see, they were still in the same box on the same floor in the same classroom. They were all cuckoo.

"What are you guys talking about? I don't see anything!" she complained, turning this way and that on her brother's lap in the hopes that she might catch a glimpse of a seagull or a dolphin.

"That's because you didn't close your eyes, Cynthia," Timothy said matter-of-factly.

"Yes. You have to close your eyes!" concurred Olivia.

"Close your eyes, Cynthia, and only open them when I say!" Pinky said.

"Okay...," said Cynthia, doing as she was told.

"All right... _Aaaaaaaaaand_... OPEN THEM!"

Cynthia opened her eyes.

" _Woooooooooaaaaaaaaaaah_...!"

"Told you!" Olivia beamed, giggling.

"Are we on the ocean..?!" Cynthia gasped, jumping a little as a dolphin flew out of the water right next to them, diving back in with a splash and spraying them all with sea droplets. They shook their fur, laughing.

"We most certainly are! Do you like it?" Pinky asked, just a tinge of uncertainty peppering his tone.

Cynthia had to think about this for two whole seconds. Then she blurted out her answer.

"YES!"

Pinky smiled.

"Are we going all the way to that island?" Olivia asked, pointing to the floating figure seemingly miles ahead of them.

"You betcha! And we'll need music to do it."

Out of nowhere, he pulled out a small boombox, clicked "Play" on the top for the CD player, and out belted a familiar tune. Both Pinky and Olivia started singing it right away, with Timothy and Cynthia joining in to hum along with the tune.

_Just sit right back,_   
_And you'll hear a tale,_   
_A tale of a fateful trip,_   
_That started from this tropic port,_   
_Aboard this tiny ship..._

At the start of the music, the boat zoomed off of its own accord towards the island, powered by the wind, the sea, and the song.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**4:00 PM**

The kids left classroom 210 with spirits high and hearts glowing. Olivia thanked Pinky over and over again, Timothy was still commenting on how their adventure felt like something right out of a movie, and Cynthia lamented that she couldn't keep the little hulu skirt she'd strung. One's imagination, it seemed, could only take things so far. Nothing they physically created in the classroom could be brought outside of it. Once they stepped off the island, all manner of sun, sea, and sand was gone, including anything they'd gathered or made on the island. The box was just a box; the floor just a floor; the posters just posters. It was as if none of it had ever happened. But the memories remained.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Pinky!" Olivia thanked him for the thousandth time. "I'll bring more next time!"

"No worries, Olivia! Shall I put you all down on my class list then?" Pinky asked, whipping out a clipboard, complete with paper and pen, and holding the pen at the ready.

"Yes, please! You're coming again, right?" she asked her friends.

Timothy thought for a moment. As exciting as it all had been, one had to be practical, after all; at least, Timothy did.

"Well, as long as our Mum says it's all right, then I suppose that would be fine," he conceded, smiling. "I'll go ask her. I think she's working today."

"Oh, please, can we? I wanna go back to the island!" Cynthia squeaked, bouncing up and down as she pulled at Timothy's shirt sleeve.

"We will, as long as Mum says it's okay."

"We'd better go. Will we see you tomorrow, Mr. Pinky?" Olivia asked hopefully.

"2:00 o'clock sharp," Pinky said, winking at her.

Off they went, leaving Pinky behind to stare after them fondly. He smiled and went back into his classroom, closing the door behind him with a soft snap.

"So what do you think?" Olivia asked as the three kids headed down the hallway.

"I like him!" Cynthia piped up immediately.

"I like him, too," Timothy said. "Too bad Evinrude didn't show up."

"Oh, that's all right. He'll come eventually. He'll want to eat all the snacks!"

All three of them laughed, gay as little summer flowers as they made their way to Mrs. Brisby's classroom.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**October 1st, 1993**

Over a week had passed since Pinky, Olivia, Timothy, and Cynthia had traveled to their own little Gilligan's Island. Fall was in full swing, with red, orange, and yellow decorating the campus, pumpkin muffins and apple cider stalls set up in various spots around the school, and warm sweaters and boots taking the place of short-sleeved shirts and sandals. The usual hall chatter and gossip traveled throughout the university, with topics ranging from the latest Beverly Hills: 90210 episode... to Nirvana's album release from last month, or, if you were one of the computer nerds, raving over some new game called Myst.

Talk of Halloween was already in the air, with the occasional crow figure or carved Jack-o'-lantern popping up here or there in a classroom. Pinky was considering throwing a party in light of the occasion. Many of the teachers excitedly agreed. Some did not. Basil thought it was a foolish affair, and Mr. Ages could very well have done without. Globetrotter heartily concurred. Strangely, the principal, a normally very hard-lined individual, was all for it. Those who knew him well, however, would have said that costuming and a flair for the dramatic was undoubtedly his thing, and that he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to show off in a vampire wardrobe or kingly dress. While some were turned off by the possibility of his showing up, others were all the more intrigued, and conversation over the matter increased tenfold.

The only thing more interesting than Halloween parties or album covers were Pinky's classes. Olivia had managed to gather up a few more friends over the course of a week. The news had spread fast. Timothy had told Despereaux, who had told Ralph, who had then told Nibbles. Olivia spread the word to Abigail, whom had then blabbed to Teresa and Martin, Timothy and Cynthia's elder sister and brother. One by one, they all showed up, day-by-day. Even Evinrude popped in once or twice, although not because he wanted to. He just wanted to "check on the kids; make sure they were okay" according to him. Olivia rolled her eyes at this, not at all blind to his grabbing a hearty helping of snacks at the end of each session.

Gilligan's Island turned out to be a popular travel spot in Pinky's class. It was the most requested and undoubtedly the most talked about. The theme song alone ended up making the rounds throughout the school. It started with Olivia whistling or humming it down the halls, caught on when several teachers and students copied her, and now whenever she skipped about the university pupils and instructors would often whistle the tune back to her. Even Basil caught himself humming along now and again, although he'd quickly cease and desist, shaking his head, when he realized what he was doing.

The first actual university student to sign up for Trozology was Teresa. She'd been pulled into it by Timothy, and her brother Martin soon followed suit. She'd been hesitant at first; after all, signing up for a new class this late into the semester was unusual, and not even allowed most of the time, but her siblings' interest in it was intriguing. What was meant to be a one-time dip in the pool ended up becoming a daily swimming excursion. Trozology, whatever it was, came with no homework, no punishment for answering a question wrong, no heavy books to lift, and, best of all, no stress. It was the first class she'd ever attended where she felt like she could be herself, and was a welcome reprieve amidst the chaos that was piles upon piles of essays, tests, and expectations she felt were upon her to succeed. This, she thought, would be beneficial to others who were also struggling. She had to tell someone...

"Someone" ended up being a couple of friends in the school. Although they didn't sign up, the idea of being transported to other tangible worlds simply via imagination alone was intriguing, even if they didn't entirely believe her. It was certainly more interesting than most anything else in the school, and Teresa's response to the class was so infectious that they couldn't help but pass by Pinky's classroom door window every now and again to take a peek. All they ever saw, however, was the teacher and maybe half a dozen kids "rowing" in a box on the floor, or standing on top of the desk pretending to climb a mountain, or sometimes just sitting in chairs watching tv. It certainly didn't look very exciting.

"No no! You have to actually participate!" Teresa insisted. "You have to commit!"

Still, no one else signed up, but Teresa continued to attend, perfectly at home with Pinky and the kids. It was fortunate that the principal never came out of his office past 5:00 PM. It was common knowledge that he detested children. Mrs. Judson only allowed them all entrance due to the area and the hour - Pinky's room was located in a section of hallway that the principal rarely frequented, and since his classes always started at 2:00 PM and went no later than 4:00 PM, it got a pass.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**7:01 PM**

Down the hall and around a corner, an hour after having dismissed his last class for the day, Globetrotter exited the room, shut the heavy, mahogany door and locked it. His was one of only four doors in the entire university that was equipped with such a mechanism; at least, regarding personnel rooms. The other three were the principal's office, the janitor's closet, and the nurse's office. He'd paid for the installation himself. It wasn't that anything had ever been stolen from his classroom. Indeed, if one pillaged it they'd surely find nothing worth stealing. Globetrotter was simply paranoid, and everyone knew it.

He was late. On some nights, he took to grading students' homework on the property instead of at home, partially to get it over with sooner, but mainly because he wanted to spend extra time in the lab. No one questioned his staying back late. No one would dare to. What he estimated would take half an hour took half an hour more than that. Martha's grammar simply needed policing, and he wouldn't stand for Trevor's snide remark about the Germ-Line Theory being conclusive. If he needed to linger for an entire hour for the sake of science then so be it.

 _Snap_ went the door, and _Click_ went the lock as Globetrotter bowed from his office (the better to pick up his heavy suitcase) and made for the elevator.

Back around the corner and down the hall, Pinky closed shut his door, which he did not lock, and made for room three-nineteen. He knocked. There was no answer.

"Hmmmm," Pinky mused.

"Mr. Globetrotter...?" he called, knocking again. "I have something for youuuu!"

Still nothing. Perhaps he'd gone home?

 _Ding_.

Pinky's ears perked. Of course. He must have taken the elevator.

Off he skipped to the elevator hall. No one there. But he could hear the whirring of the machine, and as he looked up at the lit numbers above, he saw that the little arrow was slowly moving down... down... down to the basement level. Goody! That wasn't very far down. He could take the stairwell.

And that's just what he did. Down... down... down to the basement. He hummed as he went, and his humming turned into whistling. He liked the echo it made in the stairwell. It was a bouncy little tune, rather monotonous in nature, but also rather catchy. He wasn't quite sure where it came from, or why it came, but he liked it all the same.

He peeked around the door corner as he made to exit the stairwell, and was about to wave at and call out to Globetrotter, when he paused, keeping uncharacteristically quiet as he watched Brain step off the elevator, shuffle up to the wall, and place his hand on the wall. A little spot on it glowed green, acknowledging his paw print, and the wall... opened up.

Pinky almost gasped out loud, but slapped a paw over his mouth just in time. Once Globetrotter had disappeared behind the wall, Pinky tip-toed up to it and stared at it for a long while, which, for him, was about ten seconds.

"Brain?" he pondered, curious.

What was it he was doing back there?

Pinky looked at the wall. There was no green panel that he could see, but there was a square-ish gray one. He tapped on it tentatively. Nothing happened.

"Hmmm."

He looked at it more closely. There was a little groove in the side. He picked at it.

The little door swung open.

Sure enough, there was the panel. It glowed a bright green color as soon as it was exposed. Pinky cocked his head, looked at his left paw, and touched it to the pad. As soon as he did so, it glowed red and beeped angrily at him twice. No good.

He tried again, and again. Nothing. He even tried putting his foot on it, then his tail, then his tongue, but no matter what he did, it wouldn't gain him access. Seemed like it was Pinky-proof; friendly only to Globetrotter. He sighed and pressed his ear against the wall. If he strained his auditory senses, he could _just_ make out the sound of fingers tapping on a keyboard.

"Naaaaaaarf," he remarked to himself in a whisper. "Egad. What are you doing in there, Brain?"

He listened again. Now he could hear bottles clinking around; papers being shuffled. Now nothing at all. And now, swiftly, suddenly, the sound of footsteps slapping across the floor eagerly, drawing ever closer... and closer, right towards the wall...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The potion colors represent aspects of Brain's personality. Cinnamon: Potent, with a bite. Emerald: Outlook on self as royalty/important. Green is also associated with greed and ambition. Lilac: Can symbolize confidence and love. He has a soft heart deep down. Azure: Associated with the sky. I'd like to think of it as he has high and lofty ambitions/goals, but, like the sky (or the ocean), which leads up into space, he's also a vast pool of intrigue and mystery. There's a lot about him that is hidden and undiscovered.
> 
> \- I thought about making Brain left-handed, but went with ambidextrous instead.
> 
> \- Brain dealing with bowel issues is a joke, although it will still have pertinence in the story. I just find the idea of a high-ranking professor who considers himself very dignified dealing with explosive diarrhea incredibly funny. XD


	5. Polarization

**October 1st, 1993 - 7:10 PM**

The wall to the cloaked laboratory slid open with a soft hiss as Brian T. Globetrotter quickly shuffled out of his private workshop and headed for the elevator. His ears perked a little as a distant sound caught his ear. It sounded like shuffling. Was that coming from the... trash cans? A yearning desire to investigate had to be cut short, however, as a small _ding_ signaled the arrival of his ride. Not like he could wait another minute anyway. He stepped past the steel doors and poked intrusively at Floor One's button, doing his best not to break out in a desperate dance as his pained expression was shut to the basement.

In a back corner of the basement, a trash can wiggled about unsteadily... then went still. A second later and it jumped about again, rocking back and forth, as if someone were tickling its insides mercilessly. Then, with an echoing _pop_ that reverberated off the walls, from its stomach burst forth a tall white mouse, his hair disheveled and his glasses askew as he shook himself, breathed out a welcome sigh of relief, and hopped out of the can before replacing its lid.

"Sorry, Mr. Trash Can. Zort! Thanks for all the help, though!" Pinky apologized, smiling as he refitted the can with its metallic "hat" and patted it kindly.

Even though no one could hear him, he took care to tip-toe as covertly as he could past where the secret laboratory lay, beyond the elevator, and up... up... up the stairs, only exiting onto the first floor landing once he heard the familiar _ding_ of the elevator below, signaling Globetrotter's return to the basement. He smiled and blew out yet another grateful sigh. That was a close one. He'd almost gotten caught!

Down below, Globetrotter stepped out of the elevator, adjusting his pants a touch and facepalming. That one had been painful... He reminded himself that his next doctor appointment was the following Tuesday, and privately hoped that they'd have a better solution - stronger pills or something. This was getting ridiculous.

Pinky hadn't noticed that, in his haste to hide from Globetrotter's prying eyes, he'd dropped his #2 pencil on the ground at the lab's entrance. But Globetrotter noticed. He picked up the orange object and turned it about with bandaged fingers, a crease or two forming upon his thick brow. This wasn't his. #2 pencil? He'd never be that cheap. Someone had been here...

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**October 4th, 1993 - 4:14 PM**

It was official: The Halloween party was happening at the end of the month - October 30th, a Saturday. Somehow, after four years of the school going without any employees-only holiday gatherings, Pinky had gotten it passed; or, rather, the principal had passed it. Even with him being one for the theatrics, many still couldn't understand why he had no aversion what-so-ever to such an event, especially considering that it was said principal whom had banned employees-only parties in the first place due to an unfortunate incident. Some were convinced that he had an ulterior motive, though what that might be no one could even begin to guess. And so a mystery it remained, although a good number of teachers were unabashedly excited for the party regardless. A few stragglers, such as Mr. Ages and Globetrotter, refused to attend, finding it a waste of time. Completely. Others, however, such as Mrs. Brisby, Dr. Dawson, and Bernard and Bianca had already picked out their costumes. Mr. Ages and Globetrotter rolled their eyes at this.  
It was generally agreed upon that the party was to be held at Flaversham's house, as he was one of the most handsomely paid and, as a result, owned the largest establishment. He was also incredibly humble about it and often welcomed visitors. The only rule for this autumn gathering was that no children were allowed, and so Olivia would have to room with Mrs. Brisby and her children for the night. Flaversham was agreeable to this. Olivia was not.

Pinky came across her that afternoon, sulking by his door at 4:14 PM. She had been noticeably absent to class, and as the lanky, spectacled mouse approached the young girl, he frowned at her in concern.

She didn't look at him as he knelt down to her level. The floor was, apparently, much more interesting.

"Olivia?" Pinky began, tilting his head a little, the better to look into those stubborn, glossy eyes. "Class wasn't the same without you."

She sniffed, the tears began to fall, yet still she said nothing.

"Olivia...?" he inquired again, reaching out a soft paw and delicately tucking a finger underneath her chin, the better, of course, to tilt her head towards him. He smiled at her, a kindly, encouraging smile. "I'm here."

And the dam burst.

She threw herself into his arms, sobbing vehemently, as only a child can when they've been denied something incredibly important to them. Pinky hugged her right back, patting her back gently.

" _Naaaaarf,_ " her teacher cooed in his unusual way, rubbing her head. "Ohhhhh. Tell me all about it, hm?"

"M-My daddy... says I can't go to the Halloween party!" Olivia managed to choke out. "We always do everything together... when I'm not at school! B-But he said that... I can't go because... this is a party only for the _a_ dults." At this, she had to pause, for another torrential downpour threatened to burst, making her breath hitch. She was shaking so much that she'd shook her little tam-o-shanter right off her head. "I promise I'll be good! I won't even drink the alkaseltzer!"

She said this all so seriously, and anyone else might have stifled a snort at such an overly-dramatic display, as well as her incorrect pronunciation of "alcohol", but Pinky was not like other _a_ dults. He took Olivia's woes as gravely as if he'd just been delivered the news himself. After all, if he was uninvited to one of the coolest parties of the year, especially one he was to be the host of, he'd be pretty bummed out, too.

"Oh, Olivia...," he whimpered along with her, pulling the young girl back from his shoulder so as to address her properly, and felt his heart practically break at the sight of her crimson eyes. "I'm sure your dad would normally _love_ to have you stay! After all, it's not a real party without Olivia." And he winked at her. That turned her frown upside down, if only for half a second. "I'd be really sad to not be invited to a party, too, ya' know."

"R-Really...?" the distraught little student hiccuped, wiping her eyes.

"Of course! But... you know something else?"

"What?"

"I'll bet some of the other kids are sad that they won't get to go to the party with their parents either. Like... Timothy and Cynthia. They can't go either, can they?"

Olivia shook her head.

"And you're the oldest, right?"

_Yes._

"You know what that means, don't you?"

_No._

"That means that _you're_ in charge of making your _own_ party!"

"You mean... we can have our own private party without the adults?"

"As long as Mrs. Brisby says it's okay. I'll put in a good word for you," Pinky promised. "Oh, and just between us...," and at this, he leaned in towards Olivia, cupping a hand to his mouth. Olivia extended an ear in interest. "I'm rather jealous I won't be able to attend yours. I'm sure it'll be way cooler."

At this, Olivia beamed.

"It'll be the best party you'll have never been to!"

And she picked up her hat from off the floor and slapped it down resolutely upon her furry little head, the redness of her eyes the only trace that she'd ever been crying at all. She spread her arms wide before hugging Pinky tight around the middle, nuzzling into his chest... and letting a few stray tears leak out in the process.

"Thank you, Mr. Pinky...," she whispered under her breath, and Pinky couldn't help but smile as he embraced her in return.

"You're welcome, Miss Olivia," he replied right back, booping her nose and waving after her as she ran off and around a corner.

Olivia's chipper exit was replaced by a much stiffer entrance in the form of Globetrotter, who stared after Olivia in judgement as he straightened a small stack of papers clutched in his grasp. This didn't phase Pinky in the least.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Brain!" he greeted him cheerfully, and for once, possibly the very first time for Pinky, Globetrotter actually smiled at him. Well, perhaps it was more of a smirk than a genuine grin, but Pinky accepted it either way. It was nice to see.

"Evening, my quixotic colleague," Globetrotter responded, his tone and inflection considerably more chipper than usual. "I take it you're excited for the festivities?"

"Ohhh, yes! Are you coming?" Pinky asked, as he stepped into his classroom. Globetrotter followed him to the door.

"I don't participate in such frivolities," said Globetrotter, hands tucked neatly behind his back and expression monotonous as he watched Pinky grab a tall ladder from the back of the classroom and position it underneath a dead light bulb. "You'll just have to survive without my presence."

Pinky _tut tut tutted_ sadly as he picked out a fresh bulb from one of the desk drawers and made for the ladder.

"Not even for the punch, Brain?"

"It's _Brian_. _Mr. Globetrotter_ , preferably. And, no, not even for what I'm sure will be... a delectable punch."

"Mmm. Shame," Pinky shrugged, as he popped the bulb in his mouth, clumsily climbed up the ladder, and carefully set down his bulb as he fixed to take out the old one. "I was rather looking forward to having you."

"You were?" Globetrotter asked, surprised. No one ever wanted him anywhere.

"Of course! Poit!" responded the other, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You were one of the first ones to welcome me when I came to the school, and you did _so_ very well in my class!"

"That was... just a fluke," Globetrotter responded rather bashfully, averting his gaze a little.

"You're also the only other person who's still around at night when I go home late. It... makes me feel a little less lonely."

Globetrotter cocked an eyebrow at him curiously. He simply couldn't make heads or tails of this creature. Not only did he care about him for the stupidest, most meaningless reasons he could possibly concoct, he also saw him as an... equal. The very thought sent shivers up Globetrotter's spine. Never in his life would he put himself on the same pedestal as this nincompoop, not if he was paid to do it. Ronald Pinkus was beneath him in every way. And yet... there was something, dare he say it, _wholesome_ about how he flat out refused to acknowledge any flaws in Brian what-so-ever, for flaws he had and plenty of them. This he knew, yet hated to admit. But he'd never met anyone who genuinely looked past them; who not only wasn't afraid to approach him, but sometimes purposely sought him out. It was... odd. Touching, but... odd.

He coughed uncomfortably.

"Yes, well... Maybe you should simply... retire earlier. There's more associates around before six o'clock."

"B-But I can't retire, Brain!" Pinky voiced worriedly, screwing in the new bulb, which popped a stale yellow as he wound it into place. "I just got here!"

"I meant _rest_. Perhaps you should go home earlier in the day, you... undeveloped fetus."

The insult flew right over Pinky's head to land somewhere in an empty corner, where no one else's ears could possibly pick it up. If anything, Pinky beamed at Globetrotter's response.

"Ohhhhhh! Well, that's different then, isn't it? But, oh, wait... No. No no, I couldn't possibly do that either. What about the students?"

"The students?"

"Yes, Brain! Don't your students ask to talk with you about their problems after class?" asked Pinky matter-of-factly, as he promptly descended the ladder, folded it up, and moved it back to its resting place. He hummed a very repetitive little tune as he did all this. _Hm hm, hm hm, hm hmmmm_. It was monotonous, yet curiously catchy, in a way.

" _Noooooooo_... Not usually. Sometimes they'll ask a question about a theory or mathematical equation, of course, but that's to be expected," he said, perhaps a bit haughtily as he checked over his fingernails. "I am not privy to the personal issues and well-being of my pupils. They keep to their business and I keep to mine. This is a school, not a therapist's office."

"It's not?"

Brain stared at him, giving him the most deadpan glare he could possibly muster.

"You are, without a doubt, the daftest individual I've ever met."

"Thank you, Brain," Pinky smiled, and he said it genuinely.

With a shake of the head, Brain stepped back out into the hallway, Pinky following.

"If you'll excuse me, I must return to my state of business," said he, and he began to walk away from room 210.

"Oh! Ummm... Brain?" Pinky asked, remaining by his door as he waved an eager hand towards his colleague.

Brain turned to look back at him, one eyebrow raised and hands once more tucked behind his back.

"Will you be eating dinner here at the school tonight?" he asked.

Globetrotter stared at him for a moment, nonplussed.

"Most likely. Why?"

"Would you like to join me in the cafeteria? I have something for _yoouuuuu_!"

Globetrotter considered this. Normally, his answer would be a firm and stalwart "NO", but perhaps it would work to his benefit. Being closer to Pinky would enable him to carry out his plan much faster and easier. The lanky teacher was such an unsuspecting ignoramus that he could probably finish the job Scott free, even in a public area. _Heheh. Finish the job._ Oh, it sounded so devious...

" _Cccc_ ertainly. Why not?" Globetrotter replied, smirking. "After all, you... have shown yourself to be a successful member of this institution. I suppose it's only fit to honor that with the occasional get-together."

"Oh, wonderful! Six o'clock then?" Pinky grinned, radiant as a firefly as he clapped his hands together rather childishly and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.

"Yes. Six o'clock. Don't be late," Globetrotter warned, as he turned around to continue in his trek down the hall. He'd barely gotten another foot away from the excited Pinky, however, when he was called back once more.

"Oh! Brain?"

He looked back, a rather miffed expression pulling at his face. _If that nitwit mispronounced his name one more time..._

"Thank you," said Pinky in a soft voice as he hid his hands behind his back rather bashfully.

"Don't mention it," Globetrotter responded dryly. "It's just a lunch."

"No no. I mean... for the compliment. You really think I'm a success...?"

He said it so sincerely that Globetrotter almost felt sorry for him. _Almost_...

"Sure," lied his tongue. "You've certainly proved to be of... some worth."

In truth, it was only a partial fabrication. He _had_ shown himself to be successful, if you considered babysitting a bunch of toddlers lucrative. In Globetrotter's eyes, the bumbling professor, if he was even laudable enough to be called that, was only popular from a superficial standpoint - he was likable, he was approachable, he was, as the girls disgustingly called him, "hot", and he was easy-going with children. In short, he was a celebrity, not a teacher. Whatever credentials he did obtain were worthless to someone of Globetrotter's stature; anyone who charmed their way into so highly prestigious of an establishment didn't deserve to hold a position there in the first place. He was enough of a threat to consider ousting due to his fame as a personality, but from an educational angle he posed no competition; at least, not in Globetrotter's eyes. And so he threw him a bone, more as a cover-up than anything, but he didn't expect him to take it so... consolingly. It made him a little uncomfortable.

"Thank you," Pinky said again, beaming. "You've... been the only one to tell me that. Well, at least here anyway. Eheh. Poit..."

Globetrotter frowned at the verbal tick. Few questioned it, aside from the occasional student who ventured to ask what "zort" or "narf" meant. Globetrotter simply took it as a medical condition and left it at that. He'd rather assume as such than entertain the thought that that sorry excuse of a teacher actually enjoyed spewing such nonsense, but, then again, he wouldn't be surprised.

He also frowned at the admittance, somewhat in surprise. Had none of the other teachers thrown him a kind word? Surely they must have. He knew they had, in fact, for he'd overheard their compliments, both in Pinky's presence and not. Most liked him, and those who didn't simply felt sorry for him. At least they'd had some sense to not outright call him a success, because he certainly was not that when it came to earning a place as a professional in the university.

"Just keep doing what you're doing and I'm sure you'll be fine," he spat, perhaps a little too harshly. Pinky noticed not. "You've undoubtedly shown yourself to be popular."

"Oh, not as popular as you, Brain! I'm sure you're still one of the best teachers in the whole school!"

At this, Globetrotter smiled.

"To that I flagrantly concur, my good fellow. To that, I flagrantly concur," grinned the science professor, and he said it so deviously that, if he'd uttered it to any other teacher, they would have flogged him where he stood.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**4:47 PM**

Globetrotter clicked on the little green banker's desk lamp that sat on his table. It cast a dim, yellow glow across the mahogany surface, illuminating papers, calculators, a coffee mug, and a gel pen - an expensive one. Rolling in the combination to the lock on his briefcase, he pushed in on the lock buttons, to which the case satisfyingly _clicked_ open. Out of it he pulled: a pair of gloves, some odd-looking tools, a computer chip, a bottle of Aspirin, and a very small, round device that appeared to be magnetic in construction. Indeed, from an outsider's perspective, it looked to be nothing more than one of those tiny black magnets that one stuck to their fridge to pin up such things as receipts and shopping lists. Quite unassuming.

The middle-aged mouse laid out the chip, magnet, and tools, pulled on his gloves with a sharp _snap_ , and got to work. For twenty minutes he tinkered with the device. It was delicate work, requiring much precision, but he reveled in it. Occasionally, his ponderings wandered to, of all things, Ronald Pinkus - how quixotic he was; how precariously he'd climbed up that rickety ladder. S _hame he didn't break his neck_ , Globetrotter thought. _Would have made my job much easier..._

At 5:10 PM, he stood up from his chair, learned towards his desk lamp, and, with the little magnet pinched between his fingers, held it up to the lamp.

_Snap._

It attached to the lamp's outer surface as if it was made to rest there. Globetrotter smirked. Pulling off the magnet, he opened up a side drawer and tested it out on a steel tape dispenser. It worked there, too. The magnet hugged it tightly. Globetrotter pulled it off, nodded satisfactorily, and pocketed it. Of course, this was only half of the test. It would only prove itself after applied.

"Oh, you beautiful little Polarizer," he mumbled fondly, actually kissing the device as he held it securely between his fingers. "Make me proud!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**6:05 PM**

He was late. Of course he was late.

Globetrotter tapped his fingers on a cafeteria table impatiently, checking his watch every now and then, even though there was a clock literally right above him, attached to a pole near the entrance of the meeting area. If there was anything that boiled his bottles more than almost anything else, it was tardiness. There was no excuse for irresponsibility.

The cafeteria was completely devoid of life, save for a few straggling servers behind the counter, the janitors, Jak and Gus, and Globetrotter himself. One thing rather noteworthy, if not a tad bit odd, about Acme School of Arts and Sciences was that all classes generally ended at 5:00 PM. The founder of the university had been strict about the doors closing early so as both school personnel and students had ample time to spend in the evenings with their family and friends, as well as have extra time to commit to homework. It was a rule that was still upheld to this day. Some professors, of course, still stayed past "curfew", mostly to attend to extra duties and grading during the quiet evenings, and even then none of them, save for Globetrotter, and now Pinky, ever lingered past 6:00 PM. The one exception was the theater kids - their rehearsals sometimes went until 7:00 or even 8:00 PM. It was the only reason the cafeteria stayed open until 7:00, and even then it was rare to find anyone at a table this late.

Globetrotter welcomed the silence, of course. It was a time for pondering; a time for planning. But he had no patience for late-comers.

He had half a mind to just get up and leave right then and there when in swooped the Trozologist, waving as he headed in a rush towards his cafe buddy.

"Phew! So sorry I'm late, Brain!" he sighed, flopping down into a chair, a bit too close for Globetrotter's liking. He scooted to the side a few paces. "Mrs. Brisby and I got to talking about cooking and, well, the time just ran away with me! Ha-ha! Zort!"

"Yes... I'm sure it did," Globetrotter groaned, not at all amused. "Are you going to refresh yourself?" he asked. He was already on his third cup of coffee and about to get primed for a fourth.

Pinky looked around at this, concerned, before focusing his attention back on Globetrotter.

"Um... In public, Brain?"

Globetrotter's response was a deep, planted facepalm. What an absolute boob.

"The drinks, you ignoramus. The drinks! Are you doing to get a drink?!"

"Pfff. Well, why didn't you say so, Brain?" Pinky chuckled, rolling his eyes and standing right back up again. "Oh! I almost forgot. This is for you."

And he set down in front of Globetrotter a very pretty, very lovingly wrapped little present that, somehow, he hadn't noticed before. He stared at it rather worriedly, as if it might explode.

"Well, go ahead, silly!" Pinky encouraged him, nudging him forward with a nod of the head.

"Th-Thank you," Globetrotter said, not quite sure how to respond. He unwrapped it with delicate fingers, loosening first the decorative red bow tied about the box, then carefully undoing the rose-patterned ivory paper underneath. Inside was a dark green box with a lid on it. He slipped off the lid, peered inside, and pulled out...

"For you!" Pinky exclaimed happily. "Do you like it?"

It was a black coffee mug, with the words 'Best Teacher Ever!' written in white upon the front. It was quite a nice mug, despite the ridiculous phrase - snug in his hands and smooth to the touch. He was equal parts flattered that Pinky had recognized his fondness for coffee and embarrassed that it was that apparent.

"Thank you...," he answered awkwardly. He'd probably have to blot out the text later. Being associated with anything that generic churned his stomach. But he did like the mug. "I... needed a new one."

"Now you can use it with your new coffee maker!"

"You bought that for me...?"

"Of course! Who else would I buy it for?" blurted out Pinky, rolling his eyes. "I mean, everyone can use it, but... I ordered it for you really."

To this, Globetrotter could only stare disbelievingly. He swallowed thickly. What... was _with_ this mouse?! Buying him a mug. Saying he made him less lonely at night. Ordering a coffee maker just so he could enjoy his days a bit more? No one was this nice. Surely, there was some ulterior motive.

"What's the catch...?" he asked, looking serious. There was _always_ a catch. Always.

"Catch, Brain?" inquired Pinky, cocking his head in confusion. "Um... I haven't caught anything lately, Brain. Unless you count this fish," he said, and he pulled out of his pocket an actual, live minnow in a small jar filled with water. "Hellooooo, Jerry!" said Pinky... to the fish. "I caught him in the lake this morning! Still need to buy him a tank, though. Don't I, Jerry?"

Globetrotter simply stared at him, nonplussed, his mouth hanging open a little.

"Go on! Back you go!" said Pinky, tucking the little minnow back into his pocket and smiling at Globetrotter happily as if he hadn't just pulled a live fish out of his coat. "Oh! That's right. Drinks! Aren't you going to get yours, Brain?"

And off he trotted, heading in the direction of the cafeteria to grab, as usual, an odd assortment of foods and a drink. Globetrotter nervously looked behind him at Pinky, as if he might set fire to something... or pull a bazooka out of his pants... or... something. At this point, he didn't know what to expect from this mouse, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Perhaps he was biting off more than he could chew...

But no. He shook his head at the thought. Pinkus was simply an idiot. A kind... thoughtful... very sweet idiot... _But an idiot nonetheless._ And no amount of good deeds was going to stop him in his plot. Nevertheless, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least try out the mug. He highly doubted it was bugged.

One mug of coffee, and a tray of assorted foods... plus a cup of Sprite, later, and Pinkus and Globetrotter were back at the table, the former laden down with treats, the latter content with his single, fourth serving of Italian Roast. Pinky helped himself eagerly to a sprinkle doughnut, offering Globetrotter a bite as he chewed happily.

"No, thank you. Bad for my... thighs," Globetrotter uttered lamely.

Pinky shrugged and finished off the tasty confection before diving into another. Globetrotter blew on his coffee before taking a tentative sip. It was good. Rich, flavorful, with a bite at its closure. And his lips conformed nicely about the mug. Yes, he liked this mug. Not that he'd ever say that out loud or anything.

For once, Pinky wasn't talking; so preoccupied with a sugar doughnut was he. Normally, Globetrotter would have welcomed this silence, but he'd gotten so used to Pinky always being a chatterbox whenever he was around him (which, admittedly, wasn't terribly often) that he felt... a little uncomfortable not making conversation, strangely.

"So, um...," he began, in a lame attempt to deaden the silence. "What is your opinion on asymptotic analysis?"

"Hm?" Pinky inquired, eyes wide and cheeks bulging with a mouthful of doughnut as he smiled puffily at Globetrotter.

 _Too complicated. He's not going to understand that, you moron._ Globetrotter floundered. He wasn't good at this. Small talk was not one of his strong points.

"Um... chaos theory?"

Pinky swallowed.

"Ohhh! You mean like in _Jurassic Park_?"

"What?"

"Well, that's what Ian Malcolm always talked about. Chaos theory! Although, personally, I liked Ellie Sattler more. Laura Dern is _such_ a good actress and I _loved_ her in _Rambling Rose_! She was actually Spielberg's first choice for the role in _Jurassic Park_ , did you know?"

He said all this as he grabbed a bottle of ketchup and mustard each and squirted their contents all over a hotdog he'd set in a bun. At the word "such" he'd given a very feminine wave of the hand that Globetrotter highly disapproved of.

"I did not know," Globetrotter replied, taking a dainty sip of his coffee.

"She also auditioned for the role of Clarice in _Silence of the Lambs_ , but I really do think Jodie Foster was a more appropriate selection. She's quite versatile. I heard she's looking to get back into the directing field soon..."

And on and on he went, sometimes speaking between bites, other times continuing on with a mouthful of food, his thick mumbles so incomprehensible that Globetrotter could only catch a "George Lucas" here and a "Princess Bride" there. It was downright humorous to him that this mouse, who knew so little about the subjects upon which this school was founded, was incredibly versed in filmography. Then again, he supposed it was only appropriate, considering the flamboyant showman that he was. And this _was_ a school of sciences _and_ arts, after all. But then, why hadn't he majored in theater? Trozology, whatever it was, seemed a waste of time.

"You seem to know a lot about cinema," Globetrotter voiced, finally able to find a break in the conversation after a solid ten minutes. The entire time, he'd covertly tried to roam about Pinky's attire with a sharp gaze, looking for anything magnetic he could possibly attach his device to. He eventually settled on Pinky's name tag. Of course. They all sported one, and they were made of metal. If he could somehow stick it on the back...

"Oh, I love the arts!" Pinky responded, clasping his hands together and batting his eyes dreamily. "All the movie magic and the passion and the creativity...!"

"Pinky, might I... see your badge for a moment? Only there's a nasty blemish on it. I... certainly wouldn't want you to walk around with a dirty tag."

"Why, thank you, Brain. How thoughtful of you."

And he unpinned his badge from his coat and handed it to Globetrotter. It was as simple as that.

"So, if you're so into the arts then why didn't you become an actor... or something?" Globetrotter stalled, as his right hand poked about in his jacket pocket to ensure that the magnet was still there. It was. He plucked it out, hiding it in his right hand as he pretended to rub at a spot on the badge with the end of his coat, surreptitiously planting the little magnet on the back of the badge as he did so. Piece of cake.

"Oh, I was going to, Brain! Narf! But I found something else I love much more...," he said, resting a cheek on his left hand as he gazed off into space, a toothy grin curled about his visage.

"Trozology?"

"Mmhm."

"What _is_ Trozology?"

"You don't know, Brain? It's the study o-"

But at that moment, the cafeteria doors burst open to reveal a very angry set indeed: Dex, followed close behind by Maisy, Marvell, Gadget, Tillie, and one other boy rat whom Pinky didn't recognize. Dex and Maisy were shouting at the top of their lungs, oblivious to the few stragglers lingering about the room.

"-never messed with your business before! I know it's important to you. Why do you think I gave you your space?!" Dex yelled at his sister, a plethora of expressive hand gestures complementing his outburst.

"You never 'gave me my space', Dex. You're always hanging out after my classes; checking in on me when I'm trying to relax. How is that 'giving me my space'?!"

"Oh, man. Um. Lemme think. Maybe it's because... I care about you?!"

"Maisy, come on. He's taken a lot of hits for you," Gadget said, stepping forward.

"Oh, like, grade hits? Detention? You'd know a lot about hits, wouldn't you, Dex?"

"Girl, come on. Maisy's right," Marvell uttered, also stepping up. "You're laying it on too hard."

"YOU WANNA TAKE HER SIDE?! THEN _FINE_! I know you care more about her and Dex than me!"

"I didn't say that!" Marvell countered, looking hurt.

"This is about Mom, isn't it?! You don't know ANYTHING about taking hits!" Maisy practically screamed at Dex, advancing towards him with the ferocity of a tyrannosaurus, causing him to back up with every step she took.

None of them had yet seen Globetrotter and Pinky off to the side, and the janitors stayed as silent as the mice they were from a shaded corner. Pinky looked on the verge of standing up to intervene, but Globetrotter, surprisingly, put out a hand to stop him.

"It's not about Mom! It's... about everything!" Dex choked out. "And don't tell me that I don't know anything about taking hits, Maisy! You don't know the half of it..."

"The hell do you mean about that?" Maisy softened up, but only for a moment. She turned swiftly 'round to glare at her friends. "THE HELL DOES HE MEAN?!"

All of them shuffled about awkwardly, looking embarrassed. Gadget rubbed at her arm, and Marvell bit her lip suspiciously, gaze firmly planted to the floor. But the boy rat looked the most broken of all, and it was him that Maisy targeted.

"What does he mean, Red?"

Red directed his eyes downward, his ears appropriately turning the color of his namesake.

" _What does he mean?!_ "

"I... I promised I wouldn't say, Mais!" he sputtered out, a paw coming up to rub at a sore spot on the back of his head.

"Dex?!" Maisy spat, rounding back on her brother.

"You attend this school just as much as me. You should be smart enough to figure it out," Dex replied, and with that he walked off towards an exit on the opposite end of the cafeteria, purposely ignoring his sister's pleas.

"Tell me what you mean, Dex!"

No response.

"DEX! Tell me what you mean!"

It was as she started crying that Pinky finally made his presence known... via slipping off his chair. It clattered down with its owner, the noise echoing loudly off the walls and pulling every eye in the vicinity towards him. Globetrotter jumped and glared at Pinky.

"O-Oh! Ummm...," Pinky stammered, standing up in a flash and ringing the end of his coat in his hands awkwardly.

Maisy's cheeks turned bright pink. She full out burst into tears as she turned tail and ran back into the hallway, her friends casting one last embarrassed look at the teachers before sprinting off after her, occasionally calling her name.

Pinky swallowed thickly. Globetrotter sighed, long and exhausted, through his nose.

"Why did you stop me, Brain?" Pinky queried, dusting off his coat and propping his chair back up.

"Because sometimes people just need to talk, Pinky," Globetrotter said, slapping the now tampered with badge back on the table for Pinky to take, which he did, pining it on his jacket, none the wiser.

"I don't think that was talking, Brain. That was more like... screaming."

"Well, people need to scream sometimes, too," Globetrotter nipped, draining the last bits of coffee from his mug and heading towards the sink to wash it out. Pinky followed him, demolished tray of food and empty soda cup in hand.

"Have you screamed sometimes, Brain...?" Pinky asked delicately as he tossed his trash and replaced the tray.

Globetrotter didn't answer right away. He looked thoughtful as he washed out his cup.

"Sometimes...," he finally responded, shaking the mug to rid it of the last few droplets of water.

"Were you hurting then, too?"

Another pause. Globetrotter stepped over to a paper towel dispenser, ripping off a piece to dry his cup with.

"Yes."

Globetrotter looked curiously over at Pinky, whose ears had drooped so low that he looked more like a lop rabbit than a mouse. He actually made to step forward, but Globetrotter, already smelling some form of physical affection, backed up, a hand raised in protest.

"Save your pity."

"I'm sorry, Brain. Poit..," Pinky whispered, and he truly was.

"It's fine," replied Globetrotter.

There was an awkward pause, in which neither of them spoke for a solid ten seconds, Globetrotter running a finger along the ring of his new mug, Pinky shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

"I... really should be going. Thank you for the mug. It's... good," Globetrotter ended lamely.

"You're welcome," Pinky said, the smallest of smiles crawling up his face. "Thank you, too."

"For what?"

"Sitting with me."

Globetrotter blinked. It was as if heaven itself was shining a spotlight on him, throwing every opportunity at him to find compassion for this mouse and feel guilty for what he'd done. _Well, they'll have to try harder than that_ , Globetrotter thought. He wasn't going to relent that easily. And, in the most monotonous tone he could muster, he responded with a simple:

"Mmhm."

But the smile stayed. It took a lot, it seemed, to completely break Pinky.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**October 7th, 1993 - 4:02 PM**

One of the first things Globetrotter noticed about his brilliant Polarizer, once it had been planted on Pinky, was that... it didn't work. At least, it didn't work on children. Said device had one purpose and one purpose only: redirection. From it a frequency was emitted that affected anyone within five feet of Pinky telepathically. They would be suddenly and inexplicably hit with a desire to preoccupy themselves with some other activity and, as such, never engage in interaction with Pinky for more than a few seconds. As long as he wore the name tag, he couldn't be touched. Poof. His newfound popularity would come to a screeching halt, no one would converse with him ever again, and he'd have no choice but to leave the school, friendless and jobless, leaving Globetrotter back on top as the most notable individual in the school. Or, at least, that's what it was _supposed_ to do.

But it didn't. As usual, Olivia, Timothy, and Cynthia, along with Teresa and one or two others, were at Pinky's classroom at four o'clock sharp the next day, Evinrude arriving twenty minutes later (for the snacks only, of course). The day after that there was an actual line of kids standing outside the door fifteen minutes early, waiting to get in, and the day after that the line was even _longer_. Globetrotter could only assume that there was some fault in the hardware. But he'd tested it out on himself an hour before he'd met up with Pinky and it had worked just fine then. What was the problem? Perhaps it simply just didn't work on kids, for some reason. But that couldn't be right... Teresa was one of the college students in the school and it didn't work on her either, nor on any teacher that approached Pinky. Strange. He'd have to get the device back and tinker with it some more, he supposed. Not that that would be much of a problem. Considering how easily he'd obtained it last time, snatching it back, he figured, would be a breeze. He decided to simply wait for the right opportunity and nab it back.

Whereas Globetrotter's experiment had failed, Olivia's had gone above and beyond; in fact, it had practically skyrocketed. She now had a total of 271 signatures on her petition, an overwhelming success, in the eyes of her and Pinky. Pinky said that they had enough to approach the principal with. There was just one little problem: to ask the principal to pass their petition, that meant they had to, well, talk to the principal, something no one ever wanted to do. There was only one person in the entire school who wasn't afraid of him, that person being Globetrotter, and even he avoided the angry little maniac as much as possible. Pinky wasn't entirely averse to approaching the headmaster, mainly because he'd simply never met the guy, although there was still a lingering feeling of trepidation due to how unfavorable people talked about him. But he wasn't going to let that stop him. Olivia's petition needed to be signed off on, and he was going to do everything in his power to see that it did!

And so, that afternoon, directly after class, the hallways of Acme School of Arts and Sciences found Pinky marching down the hallway, Olivia's hand in his, as he and his student headed for the principal's office.

They stopped outside the door. Was it just their imagination, or did it feel a bit colder down this part of the hallway? It was a rather darker portion of the school - not as many offices and classes were down here, some of the lights had blown out and hadn't yet been fixed, and the office was situated right in the center of a long strip of hallway, making it the furthest away from the windows. The place simply had a... foreboding atmosphere about it.

Olivia nuzzled closer to Pinky. He smiled and squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"Put on your helmet, Olivia."

"Like on our imaginary trip into the caves?" Olivia whispered, wide-eyed.

"Mmhm."

Resolute, Olivia let go of Pinky's hand and situated her tam-o-shanter more snuggly atop her head.

"Okay. Let's go fight the dragon," said she.

Pinky knocked on the door - once, twice, three times...

"Come in..," came a voice from the other side. It sounded pleasant enough, but there was something a little... off about it; a sprinkle of deviance behind the honey-suckle tone.

Pinky opened the door.

The inside of this room was, if possible, even darker than the hallway. Like Globetrotter, the headmaster owned a green banker's desk lamp, albeit two instead of one, each on opposite sides of a dark black table, and it served as the only lighting in the entire vicinity. Besides a plethora of books encased in rich wooden shelving behind him, a couple of comfortable chairs spread about, a trash can, a blackboard, and a television in a far corner opposite the principal, the room was surprisingly plain. The most interesting thing about it was a standing globe of the world, one of those expensive ones that twirled around and had little red lights on it that clicked on to highlight various hot spots on the map as you spun it. Olivia liked those. She had an overwhelming desire to spin it, but was too scared to ask, especially seeing as the globe was literally right next to the principal's desk. The further away she could be from him, the better.

"Come in, my children, come in! Oh, do come closer to the desk. You expect an old hamster such as myself to see you properly from that far away?" the principal beckoned. He sat in a very tall, very black chair behind the ebony desk. Unlike the uniform layout of the room, he appeared quite relaxed. A little too relaxed, perhaps. He was reclining, bare feet up on the desk, and decked out in a comfortable-looking brown suit and pants set, complete with checkered tie. He looked as if he ruled the world, and the smirk on his face as he smoked from a thick, piping cigar only cemented this.

Pinky didn't think he looked that old - fifty, maybe? Around the same age as Brain. But he also didn't want to be disrespectful, and so he moved tepidly forward, his steps more of a shuffle than a walk, Olivia sliding along a couple paces behind him. Now that she was actually in the room, she didn't feel quite so brave.

"I hear you've arranged something of a party," the golden hamster addressed Pinky. "I must say, I'm quite intrigued. We haven't had an employees-only gathering in four years! I'm impressed you managed to pull it off."

"Th-Thank you, Headmaster," Pinky mumbled.

"Please. Call me Snowball," the hamster said gentlemanly, holding up a hand. "No need for formalities. And who might you be?" he asked Olivia, leaning over a little, the better to see her.

"O-O-Olivia, Sir."

"Olivia. You know, the name 'Olivia' comes from the word 'olive'. The olive tree is a symbol of peace and fertility, something we all hope to breed in this school. Fertile minds; obedient pupils. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Y-Yes, Sir," Olivia agreed, although, privately, she didn't understand what he was getting at at all.

"Please, Mr. Snowball, we've come to you with a request," Pinky interrupted, holding up the petition.

"Oh?" Snowball answered, cocking an eyebrow as he took a long, steady swig from the cigar and blew out an impressive ring. Olivia watched it float around the room, intrigued despite herself. It collided upon the chalkboard and disintegrated in a soft _huff._

"It's a petition for a new baseball stadium," Pinky continued, holding out the paper for Snowball to take, which he did, looking it over without much interest. "We got two hundred and seventy-one signatures! I... hope that's enough?"

Only now did Pinky realize that he was twisting his tail in his paws something terrible, leaving little creases in it. He stopped immediately. Olivia had been biting at her fingernails. She also stopped as soon as she saw Pinky do so.

"So... you want me... to sign off on this?" Snowball asked, tossing a rather deadpan look in Pinky's direction.

Pinky gulped.

"Is that... all right? A lot of your students would love to have this back on the grounds! You'd be able to develop a team to compete with the other schools. We could win trophies and good sports reputation!"

"And it would be a P.E. class to add to your curriculum," Olivia added. Pinky smiled at her, impressed.

"Yes! Absolutely!"

"Hmph. You think people would go for this drivel? Two hundred signatures from a pool of three thousand is hardly enough to turn heads," he retorted, setting the petition down on the desk and pushing it towards them so hard that Pinky was thankful he was able to catch it before it clattered to the floor. "I must say, I'm not very impressed."

"B-But, it would do wonders for the school!" Pinky pleaded. "And Miss Olivia here worked so hard to get all the signatures. Didn't you, Olivia?"

"Yes, I did," she admitted, suddenly a bit bolder. _Fight the dragon. Fight the dragon._ "And you shouldn't be so retorshical. All the other schools have sports teams!"

Pinky gave her a side glance. _Too far. Too far..._

Olivia licked her lips, in-taking a deep breath for her next burn.

"I think you're scared."

And she put her hands on her hips, the better to complete the effect.

Pinky bit his lip. _Olivia..._

Snowball frowned. Slipping his feet off the table, he leaned fully forward over his desk, his face mere feet from Olivia's, and growled into her face: "I'm scared of _nothing_."

Olivia had closed one eye at this, the better to block out the dragon's harsh stare... and rancid breath. _He even **smoked** like a dragon._ But she stayed resolute.

"Then prove it!"

"Um... M-Mr. Snowball, if I may...?" Pinky barged in, desperate to fan the flames. It was bad enough she'd poked the dragon's eye in his own cave. They didn't need the fire, too. "Perhaps there's something... we could do for you in return? As a trade?"

That settled Snowball a little. He sat back in his chair, slightly amused.

"Hmph. What could you possibly offer to me?"

"Well, um... A special spot in the party, perhaps? Or a gift...? N-Narf..."

"No...," Snowball replied, waving it off and taking another smoke from his cigar.

"A... ticket to Disneyland?" Olivia offered helpfully.

"Pass."

"A... um... coupon for the world's biggest che-"

"Wait... Wait," Snowball said, cutting Pinky off. "The party, you said... Who's coming to the party?"

"Oh, um, everyone!" Pinky smiled nervously.

"Almost everyone...," Olivia mumbled under her breath, crossing her arms indignantly, but Pinky gave her a look that very clearly told her to shush or else.

"Will Globetrotter be there?"

"You mean Brain?" Pinky asked. "Oh... No, I don't think so. I invited him, but he... said he wouldn't make it."

"Brain? You call him Brain? Ha-ha!" Snowball laughed, actually clutching his chest as he reeled back in his chair. "Ha-ha! Ohhh, that's rich. I'll bet he just _loves_ that."

Poor Pinky and Olivia didn't know what to say. They tried to laugh along, but it only came out sounding unbearably awkward, and so they stopped.

"My good fellow, you've convinced me. I'll sign your insipid little petition."

"Really?!" Pinky and Olivia bother spurted out at once, hardly daring to believe their ears.

"On one condition: Get dear 'Brain' to come to the party. It's been an age since I've seen him, you see, and I'd love to... catch up on things, as it were. Do that, and your stadium is as good as built."

Pinky and Olivia looked at one another. Convincing the most stubborn individual in the school to attend Pinky's party when he clearly wasn't interested wasn't going to be easy, but they'd come this far. Surely, they could try again... and again, if they had to? Wasn't the school worth that? Weren't the students worth it?

"Do we have a deal?" Snowball pressed them, a nasty smirk upon his sour face.

Olivia nodded at Pinky. Pinky nodded back. He looked Snowball straight in the eye.

"Deal," said Pinky.

"Deal," said Olivia.

And they shook hands with him, Snowball squeezing down a little too tightly.

"We have a bargain. I look forward to seeing him at the party. Hm hm. Brain. Ha! Oh, how positively affluent."

And they left him as such, cigar in hand, laughing his head off like an absolute maniac.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**7:24 PM**

Dr. Brian T. Globetrotter snapped shut his weighted briefcase. He exited his classroom, shut the door, and locked it, as he always did. Another night; another opportunity to work in the lab. While he hadn't managed to get his magnet back, he'd certainly attended to other projects that required his attention. There was one he'd been quite eager to finish for some weeks. Tonight was the night.

Professor Ronald Pinkus opened his classroom door, but did not exit. Students first. A young boy mole stepped out of the classroom, his face still a little wet, but a smile tickling his face. He shuffled out into the hallway, Pinky and Olivia following him.

"Thank you, Mr. Pinkus," the diminutive mole said gratefully. "I wish my mom would listen to me like you do."

"Think nothing of it. Come by whenever you need to talk, okay?"

"Thank you, Sir." And, shyly, he stepped up and hugged him round the middle. "Please don't ever leave."

"I won't if I can help it, Toby," promised Pinky. "Promise."

"Come on, Toby! We're late!" Olivia kindly signaled. At the end of the hallway, Mrs. Judson stood waiting for them.

With a last squeeze, Toby parted and waved good-bye, keeping his eyes on Pinky until he turned the corner and was lost from sight. Pinky continued waving, even after his student had disappeared. He smiled warmly and sighed, deeply and satisfactorily. Closing his classroom door, he walked down the hallway... and stopped as he heard the familiar _ding_ of the elevator. He turned in the direction of the noise, blinking. This was the fourth time he'd caught Brain staying up late to do... whatever it was he did behind that wall in the basement. He'd been too nervous to follow him the last couple of times, seeing as he'd almost been caught initially, but... perhaps it couldn't hurt to take another peek?

Two minutes later saw a pair of loosely-tied sneakers tip-toeing down the stairwell, heading covertly in the direction of the basement. He stuck his nose around the corner. No sign of him. Already, Globetrotter had gained access into the secret lab, oblivious to the intruder whom had followed him to his private dungeon. Carefully, he stepped towards the wall where he knew a hidden panel rested. Had he been a bit more observant, he might have noticed something following him this time - a camera, set high up in a far corner of the hall, small enough to not draw too much attention to itself, yet following his every move all the same.

Pinky pressed an ear up to the wall, listening intently. He didn't even bother with the panel this time; he knew it wouldn't open for him. Sure enough, he heard clinking and clanking and the occasional typing of what sounded like computer keys echoing through the room beyond, barely audible, but still within his range of hearing.

"Naughty naughty, Brain," Pinky whispered to himself. "What are you doing back there...?"

Suddenly, the noises stopped. No clinking. No clanking. No typing of keys. Pinky froze. He pressed his ear ever harder to the door. Last time this happened, he'd been able to pick up the tell-tale sign of footsteps heading for the door, but this time he heard nothing. Perhaps Brain had sat down to read a book? He almost stopped breathing, listening as hard as he possibly could...

_HISSSS!_

Without any warning, the door slid open, Pinky giving way as he fell to the ground, one half of his body inside the lab, the other half still laying out in the basement hallway.

"AH-HA! So it was _you_!" Globetrotter exclaimed, his anger unmistakable as he grabbed Pinky by the shirt collar and, with surprising strength, tossed him full on into the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Pinky shuffled up onto his feet in haste and backed up towards the opposite wall, slamming into a metallic shelving unit full of jars, beakers, and other unusual things he couldn't put a name to. Globetrotter was advancing towards him, looking positively livid as he brandished what looked to be an X-Acto knife at him. Forget Snowball. He could handle that. This was terrifying.

"Completely innocent. HA! I knew you were up to something as soon as I saw that pencil outside my door last week. What are you after? What concoction of mine have you been looking to pilfer?!"

"I-I..! N-Nothing, Brain! I didn't even know about this place until last week! Honest!"

"HA! A likely tale. For all I know, you could have known about this lab since you got here; perhaps even applied because of your knowledge of this facility. Are you a spy? A NASA scientist? _Who are you working for?!_ "

By this point, he was full on in Pinky's personal bubble, a hand practically choking Pinky by the tie as he brandished the X-Acto knife under his chin threateningly. Poor Pinky was near tears.

"I'm not a spy! Honest, Brain! Really I'm not! Please don't turn me into mince meat!" he begged, holding his hands up to shield his face as best he could, a near impossibility, seeing as Globetrotter was so invasive. Nevertheless, the rabid teacher loosened his grip a little.

"You _swear_ you didn't know about this place until recently...?"

"Mmhm!" Pinky nodded fervently, his face full on wet, eyes shut tight as he tried, and failed, to keep the tears at bay.

"Hmph..." Brain conceded, grip loosening further. Well... _fine_. But don't touch _anything_! Understand?"

Another fervent nod, eyes still closed, and Globetrotter released him. Pinky clutched at his neck, gasping for breath as he rubbed at the spot where the tie had pulled on him. He rubbed at his eyes, the better to wipe away his pitiful tears.

"Wh-What is this place...?" he choked out, still catching his breath.

"My laboratory," Globetrotter replied stiffly, hopping into his computer chair and proceeding to continue in his voracious typing. "Don't touch _anything_."

Pinky nodded, even though Globetrotter couldn't see him. Don't touch anything. Already, he wanted very much to tickle the top of a very brown, very fuzzy-looking object sitting on a shelf near the entrance, but he honored Globetrotter's request. He didn't say he couldn't _look_ at anything, however, and so Pinky looked, eyes wide in astonishment as he meandered about the strange facility.

It wasn't a terribly large area, but what he'd managed to fit inside of it was impressive. There were shelves of bottles, papers, strange electrical appliances, various scientific and artistic tools, rows and rows of books, and two computers, one of which Globetrotter was currently working at. A ghostly green glow hung from a double row of long lights recessed into the ceiling above, the emerald hue occasionally peppered with a soft, yellow light from a table lamp here or there. Even in this room Brain had to have his mahogany, it seemed, that being reserved for the bookshelf. But the most intriguing item in the room, by far, was a large, bubbling... something. It looked somewhat like a giant beaker, albeit a bit more bulbous, and with long tubes branching off here or there, like the stretched arms of a huge, metallic octopus. Inside bubbled some greenish concoction. Pinky wondered what it was, and tapped at the glass curiously.

"I said _don't touch_ anything," Globetrotter warned without turning his head.

"Oh. Sorry...," Pinky apologized, taking a step back. "What is it?"

"It's for my latest plan."

"W-What plan is that, Brain?"

Brain sighed, pushed himself away from the desk, and stood up out of his rolling chair to stare at Pinky.

"If I tell you, you must solemnly _swear_ not to spread a word about this to _anyone_ ," he breathed threateningly. If Pinky really _was_ as big of an idiot as he appeared, he'd actually keep his mouth shut and not tell the authorities. Strangely, he was probably the only individual in the entire school whom he could trust to keep quiet. Knowing someone this daft had its perks, he supposed.

Pinky nodded and raised a hand, as if taking an oath.

"I promise, Brain!"

"Hmph. Fine. I'm planning... to take over the world!"

He said this in a flourish, hands raised in ecstasy. Pinky wouldn't have been surprised if lightning had shot out of nowhere at such a forward gesture. He'd never seen Brain this passionate before.

"The... whole world, Brain?" Pinky gasped, incredulous.

"Of course," the scientist replied, tucking his hands behind his back. "This Earth has been in a state of turmoil for years. With my genius intellect and general prowess, I'd be able to make it a better place - create a richer, more fulfilling existence for people to live in."

"Ohhhhhh! You mean like charity work! Right, Brain? Better places for people to live and all that? Good food; warm homes; happy little children playing in the yard with their puppies!" Pinky voiced, hands clasped together against his cheek as he grinned widely at the thought. "Oh! And better school systems! And no more people getting hurt. And plenty of money for everyone!"

"Why, yes, Pinky, that's... exactly what I'm talking about. With... the occasional adjustment here or there, of course."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know... A specific rule set for people to abide by. Recognizing me as their leader. World peace. That sort of thing..."

"Sooooo... sponsorship then?"

"Um. Sure... If... that's what you want to see it as."

"Well, I think that's just wonderful, Brain!"

"Y-You do...?"

"Well, of course!" Pinky continued, prancing about the room now, not at all shy about toying with a test tube or a Newton's cradle. For once, Brain didn't stop him. "We all could use a better place to live in! Peace and love for everyone! That's what I teach every day, Brain."

"Do you?"

"Of course. If I'd known about this place earlier I would have supported you a long time ago! Although, I don't know why you have to hide it all down here. Don't you want everyone to know what good you're planning on doing for the Earth?" Pinky asked, shrugging confusedly.

"U-Uhm... Well, it has to be a secret. If anyone knew about this, they'd... probably try to stop me," Globetrotter fumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Why?"

"Well, you know... Taking over the world. It's... not exactly a normal thing to put on one's "to-do" list."

"Well, it should be!" Pinky retorted, hands on his hips. "If everyone was as kind as you the world would be a better place!"

Just then, Pinky gasped, struck with a sudden idea.

"What?" Brain asked, a touch worried.

"Brain! What if we keep it a secret until _allllll_ of your plans are ready, and then we surprise everyone with a big, save-the-world party!"

"Ummm... S-Sure! That's... kind of what I had in mind, actually."

"Egad! It's brilliant! I'll handle all the party preparations when the time comes, don't worry. I'll get balloons and decorations and... OH! Cake! We have to have cake, Brain! But will two hundred cakes be enough to feed everyone?"

"Pinky...?" Brain asked tentatively. "You... promise you won't tell anyone about this, right?"

"Of course not, Brain," Pinky said matter-of-factly, waving a hand. "I mean, you did almost kill me back there, but now I see that you just didn't want to spoil the surprise!"

"So... no blabbing?"

"My lips are sealed, Brain," he promised, making a "zipping" motion across his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. "But only if you'll let me help!"

He meant it in jest, partially. Even if Brain said no, he still would honor his request to keep the secret a secret, but Brain took it literally. He sighed, facepalming. Positives and negatives, he supposed.

"All right. Fine. But just... stay out of the way as best you can, all right?"

"Promise!" Pinky swore, beaming. "Um... do you mind if I hang around here for a little while?"

Brain narrowed his eyes at him. Just because they were now technically partners in crime didn't mean that he wanted Pinky hanging around any longer than he needed to. Then again, it wasn't as if letting him stay a bit longer would hurt anything.

"Just as long as you keep your paws _off_ my lab."

"Yippee!" Pinky exclaimed, jumping once up into the air before reengaging in deep exploration of the room.

Brain sighed, turned back around, and planted his caboose firmly back in the computer chair. Every now and then he'd pause in his typing to stare curiously at Pinky as he looked at everything in the lab, trying his darndest not to lift a finger as Globetrotter had asked. Brain rolled his eyes, finally consenting.

"Fine. You can touch the books. But be careful with them," he warned.

"Oh, thank you, Brain! I won't rip a page!"

"You'd better not...," Brain mumbled under his breath.

Pinky sifted through the books, eventually finding one he liked and sitting down cross-legged on the floor, such as a child might during reading time. Brain shook his head at this. A past conversation came to mind...

_"You're also the only other person who's still around at night when I go home late. It... makes me feel a little less lonely."_

He stared at Pinky once more, head cocked to the side questioningly, before turning back to his work. The lanky newcomer was, undoubtedly, an annoyance. He was oxymoronic, incredibly daft, and a thorn in Brain's side. Things hadn't been quite the same at the school since he'd arrived. He was a pest that eventually needed to be eradicated. And yet, as Brain sat there, listening to the soft turning of the pages behind him, with the occasional 'ooo' or 'ahhh' complimenting a particularly good part of the book, he had to admit that the presence of someone else in the room, someone kind and nonjudgmental and supportive, made him feel a little less lonely, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- My dad used to own (and probably still does) one of those big briefcases with the locking mechanisms on them. I always enjoyed watching him fiddle with the combination and pop open the case. Of course, now-a-days, briefcases are pretty much a thing of the past, but I still think about that big ol' thing and its locks sometimes.
> 
> \- The line "... in public, Brain?" is a reference to a very similar quote from "Welcome to the Jungle", one of the original Pinky and the Brain episodes, in which Brain asks Pinky to do something simple and Pinky, misunderstanding, replies with: "Brain? In public?"
> 
> \- Marvell is an original OC created by Black Geeky Girl, whom you can find on Twitter and Tumblr.
> 
> \- The line "positively affluent" is a reference to a PatB-themed story of the same name here on AO3 that also features Snowball. Please look it up and read it. It's awesome.
> 
> \- The ending is, admittedly, a bit rushed, and I struggled with the subtext of the laboratory scene. I'm not certain how apparent it is or not, but, if you don't get what I'm going for, all the better I suppose, as you'll be just as surprised as Pinky in a future chapter.
> 
> \- This is my favorite chapter so far. I had a blast composing this.


End file.
